


Ain't Seen Nothing Yet

by electriclita



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Jared, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Top Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4466783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electriclita/pseuds/electriclita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early on a Wednesday morning every June, Jensen piles into a truck with his best friend Chris and a couple hundred pounds of sunscreen, toilet paper, water, and camping gear. They drive 700 miles northeast to spend 4 days in close quarters with 85,000 other music-loving people from all over the world, wringing every last bit of excitement from the sticky-hot days and neon-streaked nights. Each Bonnaroo is a unique experience, but this year Jensen’s going to encounter something completely different: the boy next door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't Seen Nothing Yet

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, this is it! Baby's first big bang. As little as six months ago I was sitting here thinking I could never do something like this...and here I am! What a trip it's been. Here's to my amazing betas: S., who wanted nothing to do with this but let me rope her into the roles of unwilling cheerleader and last-minute SPAG-checker anyway; and [darcydelaney](http://darcydelaney.livejournal.com), whose insightful comments and excitement helped me shape this from a ragged second draft into something I'm proud to post today—she is truly a gift, y'all. To [wendy](http://wendy.livejournal.com), for running this challenge year after year and supporting us newbs through our sheer terror. And last but not least, to [merakieross](http://merakieross.livejournal.com), for the beautiful art: [go check it out](http://merakieross.livejournal.com/5741.html) and be sure to leave her some love!

Jensen fidgets in his seat as he and Chris slowly wind through the grasslands of Manchester, Tennessee. They’re just one of thousands in a sluggish parade of vehicles, each filled with people eager to make camp before Bonnaroo officially begins tomorrow. Time seems to warp strangely around the farm—10 hours' travel from Dallas and then sometimes half that much just to move the scant few miles off the interstate into the campground—but Jensen wouldn’t trade away a second of it.

Chris is leaning way back, one hand on the wheel as he watches the cars ahead of them inch forward. The stereo is tuned to Radio Bonnaroo but neither of them have been paying much attention to it, preferring to watch as other travelers get out of their cars for a smoke or a stretch, the locals selling dry ice, beverages, and parking spaces at their homes along the side of the road.

A smirk colors Chris’ mouth as he points out the three Hot Wheels trikes piled on the lawn of a ranch-style house. "I’d pay money to see you ride that to the tollbooth, Jenny. Roll up and tell them you need your ride inspected."

Jensen laughs and shoves Chris sideways, jamming him against the truck’s door. The line inches slowly forward and Jensen waves at the kids selling lemonade at the side of the road. More than once someone shouts "Bonna—,"the answering call of "—roo" echoing at top volume down the line.

Fat droplets of water fall on the windshield just before they roll up to the tollbooths marking the outer edge of the farm the festival is hosted on, the single line of cars fanning out into several as volunteers gesture vehicles forward and sideways to the inspection points. The rain seems to match their speed as they move faster toward the checkpoint.

"Jesus, I don’t envy them," Chris says as he watches a group of girls clutch ponchos around themselves while two volunteers unload every single item from their hatchback. He peers up at the windshield. "Not that I much envy us setting up in this. Hope it doesn’t get any worse." Jensen shrugs and climbs down from the truck as they pull up to the checkpoint.

Their inspection is cursory at best, barely a glance into the cooler and a quick peek around the truck, the short volunteer laughing as she leans way up to draw a lopsided circle drawn on the windshield signifying their clearance. They’re given trash and recycling bags, and Bonnaroo maps and guidebooks, then their wristbands are scanned in and suddenly they’re inside the farm again. Jensen shivers as he slides back in his seat, wet hair sticking to his forehead, and Chris cranks the heat as they merge back into a single file lane.

"Now the fun part," he mutters. With thousands upon thousands of attendees spread out over the 700-acre land it’s a crapshoot where you end up camping, anywhere from the doorstep of Centeroo to the farthest reaches of the farm. That doesn’t stop the rampant theories on what time to arrive and what set of tollbooths to enter through in order to secure a campsite in one of the pods closest to Centeroo. Each pod is like a neighborhood, balloons emblazoned with the pod number flying high over a medical tent, showers, ice vendors, and porta-johns at the center, surrounded by vehicles parked close together to create rows of tiny campsites. If each pod is a neighborhood, Centeroo is the city hub of the festival, sprawling with the stages, tents, craft and clothing vendors, foods from all over the country, and about a hundred and one things to do twenty-four hours a day.

"Can’t be worse than ‘09," Jensen says cheerfully. "Remember trying to get back from Centeroo in the rain storm at 2 AM? We were, what, at least half a mile out? That was the worst."

The traffic moves steadily past the vendors’ row on Bushy Branch Road, and they can see cars turning a path to the right not too far ahead. Jensen holds his breath until they’re actually directed down the line—you never know when the volunteers are going to change direction—then grins, "Dude, we’re gonna be in Pod 2 again! Check it out!" He points to where volunteers are directing cars to fan out into rows as they drive closer to the walled-off VIP and RV areas, situated right next to Centeroo. This is about as close as anyone gets in the campground without going to Tent Only—where no cars are allowed, and there’s no place to keep your extra gear or valuables safe—or the accessible camps.

They’re maneuvered next to a beat-up tin can packed heavily with gear in the backseat. Jensen stares for a second as the driver unfolds himself to nearly twice the height of the car, stretching his long limbs. As soon as Chris cuts the engine they move into action, pulling down the tailgate and hauling out their pop-up canopy. At this point the rain has pretty much completely stopped as the clouds roll away from the farm, but more than one rainstorm has dissipated only to make a reappearance later the weekend.

They’ve barely got the canvas over the metal frame when one of the mounted police and a volunteer move by, telling them to take it to the front. All around them campers look equally as confused, but they all drag their stuff in front of their cars, butting up to another row of campers setting up behind their cars and trucks.

Suddenly it makes sense to Jensen as he looks over the empty space between two rows of vehicles. "That’s kinda smart, putting all the tents in between the cars and leaving the lanes open. Keeps us from getting blocked in like last time."

"Yeah, but now I gotta turn the truck around." Chris grumbles, pointing at the front end bumping up under the canopy.

"Do it after we get the canopy up," Jensen suggests.

They get the canopy propped up quickly and dart out to turn Chris’ truck around. It’s tight—the lane isn’t very wide and he’s got an extended cab plus the long bed on the pickup—but they make it in a few minutes with Jensen directing. Other people along the lane have the same idea, and some pull surreptitiously further into the lane to give themselves more space for their gear. Once the truck is in place, Jensen and Chris head back around, Jensen groaning at the sight of a hot pink canopy butted up to his University of Texas orange one.

"At least we’ll always be able to find our campsite," he jokes to the tiny girl under the pink canopy. She’s barely tall enough to reach the frame on her tiptoes, and Jensen helps her out with the heavy-duty tarp she’s zip-tying on the east side to block out the inevitable morning sun.

"No shit," she responds, amused. "I bought it just because I love pink but I also figured it’d be really easy to spot—had no idea we’d end up with you for neighbors! Thanks," she nods to her bag of clamps as she sets it down and holds out a hand to Jensen. "I’m Genevieve."

"Jensen." He shakes her hand as two other girls slip in next to Genevieve and she introduces them as Katie and Rachel. Chris shouts his name from inside the truck bed and the girls crack up as they all go back to stringing up tarps and tapestries to keep their camps shady and cool. The campground is bustling all around them, cheerful voices ringing through the air as the land is transformed from acres of grass to a riot of color and excitement. Jensen and Chris may have a claim on this 10-by-10 square, but the entire farm is home and every Bonnaroovian is family for the next four days.

A stream of curses comes from the direction of the beat-up grey car just as they’ve got their air mattress in place. Jensen pokes his head around to see the tall guy struggling to raise his canopy, not quite able to distribute the legs evenly on his own.

"Hey, you need some help?" Genevieve offers.

The tall guy sighs and drops his hands, setting the canopy back on the ground. "Yeah," he says sheepishly. "I don’t think I can do it myself."

Jensen’s about to hop out of the truck when Genevieve shouts for Katie, telling the tall guy that Katie’s a whiz at this stuff. Sure enough, she helps him raise the canopy swiftly and steadily while Jensen and Chris move their stuff into the cab of the truck. After years of practice, they’ve got their routine down pat: Jensen’s personal things in the passenger seat, Chris’ in the driver’s, solar chargers on the dashboard and sheets draped over the windows.

By the time they’ve got their stuff in place, tall guy’s tent and canopy are up in one piece and Katie’s just locking down a tarp, looking satisfied with her handiwork. She high-fives the tall guy.

"So how’d you end up here alone anyway?"

"One of my friends was supposed to come, but he ditched at the last minute." He rolls his eyes. "I paid way too much for this ticket and the time off _not_ to come."

"Aw, that sucks," Katie looks sad for a moment and then brightens up. "You should hang with us this weekend! We’ll be your friends. I’m Katie," she extends her hand to shake, "and that’s Genevieve—Gen—and Rachel," she points them out.

"Jared," he says, grinning. "Thanks."

Jensen hops down to introduce himself and Chris, trying not to stare at the dimples that etch into Jared’s cheeks at finding two fellow Texans right next door. They don’t quite disappear from his face even as he goes back to putting his campsite together, a faint grin playing about his lips.

The people on Jensen and Chris’ other side are the opposite, clearly uninterested in making friends with neighbors. They have two canopies completely walled off with tarps behind a late-model Mustang, and if Jensen cranes his head just right he can see into a gap at the corner—cots and a folding table set up inside with a large collection of alcohol on the table, banned glass bottles and all. Jensen shakes his head. He just hopes they won’t be as obnoxious as they appear to be.

Jensen slings himself into a chair, leaning over to grab two beers from the cooler. He passes one to Chris and they sit in silence for a few minutes, checking their phones as they pull from the chilly cans. He’s got a text from his mom: _Be safe and HAVE FUN @ Bonnaroo! :)_ He rolls his eyes—doesn’t matter how many festivals he attends or how old he is, he’ll still be her baby boy—and texts her back quickly, letting her know that they’re settled at camp and hanging out with the neighbors, and laughs at her response of _I wouldn’t expect anything else from you early birds. Get some sleep tonite while you still can!_

"Hey, Steve’s here," Chris says excitedly when his phone chimes.

"Where?"

"Dunno. Gonna find out." He types rapidly, pauses, types again, pauses, and then finally calls Steve. Jensen smirks as Chris wanders out to the driving lane, presumably to flag Steve down. His beer is just about finished when Chris returns, triumphantly exclaiming that he found Steve.

"What’s up, man?" Steve pulls him in for a hug and claps Jensen on the back.

"Not much. Made it here in one piece, got our shit set up," Jensen waves a hand around to indicate the campsite. "How about you?"

"It was good! Jason had to stop like ten times to piss, but we got here. We’re actually not too far from here, maybe five minutes back?" Steve points further back in the pod.

"No shit, huh? This is a good spot to be in, we were not too far from here a couple years ago." Jensen digs another beer out of the cooler to pass to Steve, who happily accepts. He hitches himself up on the tailgate of the truck while Chris and Jensen settle back in their chairs and before they know it, it’s close to midnight and they keep losing track of their conversation. Steve gets up, tossing his beer cans at the recycling bag.

"Just like college. Kicking you out of our place since 2006," Chris smirks. Jensen punches him on the shoulder and gives Steve a hug, making plans to meet before the shows tomorrow.

"Night, guys," Steve waves. "Cute lights," he aims at the girls, who’ve been chatting quietly underneath the softly blinking Christmas lights in their canopy. They giggle and wave, Rachel holding up a can in salute as Steve disappears beyond the cars.

"I’m gonna turn in too," Jensen says to Chris. "You staying up?"

"Nah." Chris chugs the rest of his beer and tosses it in the recycling bag too before climbing into the truck’s bed. The air mattress is just big enough to sit firmly inside the truck bed with the gate up, but they leave it down because it’s too cramped otherwise for two guys over six feet. The nylon camper shell Chris bought for the truck a couple years back is perfect for the Tennessee summer—keeps out the morning dew but isn’t as stifling as being encased in metal once the sun rises, and the back window unzips instead of lifts so they can park it just under the canopy and run a tarp up to the cab to provide extra shade during the day. Jensen quickly changes into his sweats and tosses his jeans through the rear cab window, falling asleep quickly once he throws his blanket on and tucks his phone under his pillow.

Jensen manages to sleep well past sunrise, but unsurprisingly Chris is still conked out so Jensen carefully crawls out without disturbing him. He grabs one of their rolls of toilet paper and heads to find the nearest cluster of porta-johns. He heads in the direction of the pod center so he can cruise past the food booths set up in the pod this year, too.

Snippets of conversation from sleep-rough voices float through the air, and someone’s grilling bacon on a propane stove. On the way back Jensen notices they might as well be in the middle of the freaking United Nations of Bonnaroo—two rows over someone has a Welsh flag among several Canadian ones, five or six cars down someone is waving a Chicago flag, and there’s a Union Jack two cars away from him and Chris.

When Jensen gets back, Chris is awake, still laying down and playing on his phone. Jensen throws the roll of toilet paper at his head and says, "Wake up, man."

"Fuck off," is Chris’ muffled reply, and Jensen laughs as he digs the orange juice and beef jerky out of the cooler for breakfast. He settles into his chair and pulls out his own phone, checking his email while he munches.

When Chris stumbles out of the truck Jensen’s just finishing up breakfast. He stretches and snipes a piece of jerky out of Jensen’s bag.

"Where’d you put the toilet paper, dickweed?"

Jensen laughs. "Gave it to you, man, I dunno what you did with it." Chris eventually finds it where it landed on Jensen’s side of the air mattress and he shuffles off to do his business. While he’s gone Jensen takes the opportunity to do a quick "shower" with the baby wipes stashed in the cooler and changes into his clothes for the day. He’s spraying sunscreen over his arms when Chris returns and gives Chris the chance to use the canopy to change in in private while he finishes applying sunscreen. Someone a little ways away is trying to fly a kite, the low wind turning her tries mostly into failures. Judging by the shouts of laughter, she doesn’t care a bit.

Jensen and Chris walk into their campsite balancing enormous burritos on flimsy plates, ready to get in their first-day fuel before they enter Centeroo. There’s raucous laughter as they approach, cut across by Gen’s voice when she spots them.

"Guys! Come play Cards Against Humanity with us."

Jensen’s gaze falls on Jared, sitting cross-legged on the tarp floor under the pink canopy, cards held loosely in his long fingers. Gen’s couched in a hammock and Katie and Rachel are lounging in brightly-colored camp chairs. Cards are scattered across the top of a cooler and everyone’s got their gazes turned on Jensen and Chris, inviting them to join.

"What the hell." Chris shrugs and drags his chair over as the others scoot around to make space. Jensen drags his over too, putting it between Katie and Chris.

"Okay, so we all kind of know each other, but here—Rachel, Katie, Jensen, Chris, Jared, and I’m Gen," she points at each person as she names them, ending on herself. "Grab five white cards, guys!"

Jensen catches Jared’s eye across the cooler, and he grins as Jensen pulls his cards from one end of the box while Chris pulls from five random places. Jensen struggles to balance his overstuffed burrito with his cards for the first couple rounds until he gives up trying to eat gracefully. Chris is struggling just as much beside him, barely glancing at his cards in between mouthfuls.

"So how do you guys know each other?" Jensen directs to the girls.

"We work together," Rachel answers, and the other two nod vigorously. Jensen can’t imagine liking anyone enough to see them 40 hours a week and choose to vacation with them but Rachel counters, "We don’t actually see each other every day. Katie’s in graphics, and Gen’s in tech services. I work the front desk so I get her deliveries," she points to Katie, "and Gen fixes the ridiculously outdated tech when it goes haywire."

Everyone laughs. "God, I feel that," Chris says. "You guys aren’t first-timers, are you?"

"We came two years ago, too," Katie says.

"That was the last time we were here, too," Chris says. "We didn’t get to go last year because _someone_ was busy moping."

"Shut up, Chris," Jensen warns. Chris holds his hands up in mock defense and Jensen rolls his eyes, turning back to his cards to deflect curious faces. "So who’s the next Card Czar?"

Conversation goes in bits and pieces between rounds, and though Jensen doesn’t have the most black cards when he stands up to leave, he’s particularly proud of his play "The milkman" to Katie’s black card "_____: good to the last drop." In their few hands, Jensen learns that Rachel plays the absolute raunchiest cards possible and Gen loves puns. He keeps accidentally brushing Jared’s hand as they lay down their cards and draw new ones each round, and by the end of the game he’s not so sure it’s completely accidental. He realizes with a start that the festival is going to officially start soon, which means he and Chris need to head into Centeroo.

"Alright y’all, time for us to go. Wild Feathers are on in less than an hour." Jensen lays his cards in the discard pile, standing up and dragging his chair back underneath his own canopy. The girls respond in a chorus of "fun!" over Jared’s "awww," which earns him a smack from Gen.

"We aren’t going in until 5 for Robert DeLong, you wanna keep playing?" Katie asks, and they turn back to the game.

Jensen grabs their Camelbaks from the truck and fills them with water from the cooler, sucking down the remainder of one bottle before handing Chris’ over. "You got all your stuff?"

Chris pats his pockets, nods. "Let’s do this." They sling their Camelbaks over their backs and wave to the group, heading off in the direction of Centeroo. On their way down the row Jensen notices even more flags flying over the camps—a few more city and state flags, and one handwritten one that says "THE SWAMP" with a snake drawn on it. Along the biggest alley, between VIP and the pod, vehicles are painted with peace signs and hearts, pieces of paper on dashboards advertising for shrooms or the question _have you seen Molly?_ One camp has a kiddie pool shallowly filled with water, inviting passersby to take a dip.

The main drag is packed, a crush of people heading into Centeroo. Jensen spots hula hoops, beer cups, flower crowns, and signs of all manner in the hands of other Bonnaroovians. The energy is as intense as the sun is hot while everyone floods into the queue maze toward security, happily conversing with strangers, brand-new friends just for the weekend. Phone and cameras wave in the air as people snap photos of high fives and the arch that sits at the main entrance into Centeroo, getting their first look at this year’s decorations. Jensen can’t quite figure out how but it appears to shimmer in the sunlight, reflecting bright green and silver.

Once they get close Jensen realizes the arch is decorated with giant sequins, dancing and shimmering in the sunlight. The security checkpoint already has several food items, glass bottles of alcohol, and overlarge signs in the confiscated items area, but Chris and Jensen are waved through to scan their wristbands and just like that, they’re inside the heart of Bonnaroo once again. The wooden fence surrounding the entirety of Centeroo is mostly blank in the entrance area, leaving space for artists to spray paint and chalk their marks onto the walls throughout the weekend.

The main venue area is closed off until tomorrow when the biggest acts begin to play so they head to the eastern side of Centeroo, where the smaller stages are placed around the perimeter and dozens of sights are scattered in between. The usual fixtures are still there—the enormous metal tents with their stages inside, the vendor stalls lining the pathways, huge clusters of porta-johns and water stations placed strategically between the tents—but no two years of Bonnaroo are ever the same, new things to look at everywhere you turn.

They walk to The Other Tent in one of the corners of Centeroo—the major stages are named What and Which and the biggest tents called This, That, and The Other, leading to more than one confusing conversation—arriving just as the Wild Feathers sign is raised over the stage, indicating 30 minutes to showtime. A cheer rises from the crowd, Jensen and Chris joining in as they fill in an open spot among a couple hundred other people already under the tent’s roof.

Close to showtime, Jensen rotates slowly in his spot, craning his neck to see how far back the crowd extends. He’s surprised to see the crowd spilling beyond the tent posts, extending out onto the grass. When Jensen completes his rotation, Chris faces him and asks, "So how about that Jared kid?"

Jensen’s momentarily speechless by the abrupt question. "What?"

"You heard me." Chris smirks. "Making goo-goo eyes at him every time you put your cards down earlier."

"I was not!" Jensen protests. Chris raises an eyebrow as he reaches up to tie his hair back with a bandanna. "Okay, fine. So he’s hot. What do you want from me?"

"More like what do you want from him?"

Jensen laughs. "You’re ridiculous, you know that?" Trust Chris to get straight to the heart of the matter, but it spins Jensen into a train of thought about what Jared might be like—in bed, to date, to fall asleep with. It’s been a long time—too long—since Jensen has really wondered that about anyone.

Chris shrugs. "Weird things happen at Roo." Jensen shoves his shoulder and is fortunately spared from a response by the appearance of the band onstage. Chris slants him a smile as they welcome the band along with everyone else, shouting and cheering wildly.

The band is fiercely determined to make sure everyone has a good time, giving their all onstage. By the time they close on "The Ceiling" and wish everyone a good weekend, Jensen’s sweaty from the press of bodies but exhilarated—the festival has truly begun. He and Chris amble out of the tent, checking their watches. "Dude, we have like two hours before Thao. Do you wanna go back to camp for dinner?"

Jensen shakes his head no and they end up at the new Food Truck Oasis situated close by, between The Other Tent and This Tent along the eastern wall of Centeroo.

"Jesus, I didn’t know there would be so many options." Jensen surveys the ring of food trucks, eventually deciding on the grilled cheese truck while Chris stands in line at the fancy cheeseburger truck next to it. Food in hand, they nab spots at a recently-vacated table and dig in. Jensen practically moans at the first bite of his grilled cheese, and Chris wolfs down his burger and fries with way more excitement than he had for his burrito this morning.

Before they know it, time has flown by, and if they leave now they might snag a spot in the front row for Thao’s show. Thursday shows are pretty easy to get on the barricade for without having to wait hours and hours. This one was Jensen’s pick—they’re doing some shows together, a few they’ll split up for because of conflicting time slots—and he’s pumped. Thao delivers, stomping across the stage in her adorable cowboy boots as she shakes her hair and wails on her guitar and banjo. The bulk of the crowd is deceptively chill, especially around the edges and on the grass, but the first few rows are really into it, singing along and clapping like it’s the only show of the weekend.

Afterward they decide to catch a nap before the next show at 11; they have almost 3 hours and the luxury of being in Pod 2 is that their walk back to camp will barely take 15 minutes each way. Jensen grabs a churro from one of the stands on their way out, munching on it with abandon as they navigate the crowds.

The sun is just going down when they get back and although Jensen surreptitiously peeks through the gap in Jared’s tarps, the only appearance of life from any of the camps near them are the people kitty-corner to Jensen and Chris, near the Union Jack.

"Shove over, churro breath," Chris says as he follows Jensen into the truck bed, kicking at Jensen’s knee. Jensen rolls his eyes and turns over with his blanket to face the side of the truck. They learned to bring separate blankets after the first year when Chris retaliated at Jensen’s thievery of the sheets by throwing them all on the dew-dropped grass one morning. Jensen can’t help that he likes to wrap himself up even when it’s 80*+ outside, but that day nobody had any blankets.

Jensen sighs and snuggles into his pillow, matching his breathing to Chris’ so he can drift off to sleep more easily. He’s always been envious of Chris’ ability to fall asleep anywhere on a whim.

Jensen’s alarm startles them awake at 10:30. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and slides out of the truck, stretching quickly. Nobody else is around at camp, but the girls’ lights are twinkling in their canopy so they must’ve been by at some point. They leave Jensen just enough light to see his stuff; he checks the water in his Camelbak and decides to change into jeans and grab his hoodie. The Tennessee nights can be as chilly as the days are hot, and with plans to visit the air-conditioned Cinema Tent in the late night he might just freeze otherwise. Chris is ready by the time Jensen finishes up, and they head back into Centeroo, picking their way through the darkened paths between tents with their flashlights. At the corner of the main road and the side path, something flashes and he looks up to see a gold lamé flag with R. Kelly screenprinted on it waving from a truck antenna, reflecting the lamplight as it proudly proclaims this area Camp Closet.

Not many people are going into Centeroo at this time of night so the cattle call has been reset to a less twisty path and they breeze through security again. Without hundreds of people in the way Jensen can see the art on the wooden walls of Centeroo, from the elaborately painted Wizard of Oz mural to dozens of answers chalked underneath the question "Before I die, I want to: ____." The stage Hunter Hunted are playing is a weird little venue, mainly sitting areas with oversized pillows on theatre-style lounges and it doesn’t hold a lot of people, but there have been some great bands here. Jensen’s given up seeing some main-stage acts in favor of those playing the tiny Miller Lite Lounge.

After the band finishes just past midnight, Jensen and Chris slowly file out with the other patrons. They’ve already been here more than 24 hours and it gives Jensen a slightly melancholic feeling every time he realizes the weekend passes so quickly. The funk never lasts long, though; spending too much time in your head leads to missing some great moments and Jensen’s quickly pulled from his by the passing of a VW Beetle decked out in neon lights, rolling along on oversized tires with people hanging out the windows. It quickly becomes apparent that the high-rise vehicle is heralding the opening of the new Kalliope stage, which lights up in an explosion of green lasers and thumping bass. The Kalliope crowd seems to be full of ravers decked out in glow sticks, drinks with frilly umbrellas, and plenty of drugs so they opt to grab a bite and watch from afar.

"You still wanna catch Trapped in the Closet?" Chris asks around a mouthful of burger. Jensen nods vigorously, so after their meal they wander down to the cinema tent. Some serious guitar drifts over the crowd as they pass This Tent, and right as they pass by the Silent Disco they hear everyone scream "turn down for what!" Jensen can’t help it, he doubles over with laughter as it happens again and again until the song presumably ends. They’ve done a couple Silent Disco sets in the past, but it’s always entertaining to watch from the outside without hearing the music that everyone’s jamming to.

The line for the Cinema Tent the singalong is taking place in is surprisingly long but they good-naturedly wait it out, finally getting in just past 2 AM. It’s a less exciting affair than Jensen expected, most of the fun occurring when people wave spatulas in the air in time with the girl onscreen brandishing hers and laughing at themselves, so they duck out after twenty minutes in favor of sleep.

On Friday morning shouts of laughter rouse Jensen from his sleep, followed promptly by loud shushing from nearby. He debates whether he wants to stay in bed and dick around on his phone or get up, but his stomach answers that for him with a rumble. Once he’s done his morning business and nabbed a water bottle and an apple from the cooler, he settles in his chair. It’s still early enough that it doesn’t feel too hot and camp is quiet, most people taking advantage of the cool air to continue sleeping. Jensen turns on his Kindle and loses himself in his book until Chris wakes up. It’s properly hot by then and Chris swigs the last of Jensen’s water before heading to the porta-johns.

Chris flops down in his chair with his phone and munches on his own breakfast while Jensen continues to read until they hear Gen shuffling around, raising the tarps and fabric on her canopy to get more airflow. She’s wearing a tutu, and when Jensen realizes it’s Friday he starts laughing. "Are you going to brunch?"

She puts her hands on her hips, cocks her head. "You know about brunch?" Jensen nods. "Are you going?"

"Nah, I only went a couple times and it wasn’t my thing."

Gen holds up a couple bottles with brightly-colored liquid in them. "I made Skittles vodka," she entices. "Come on, I need a friend! Katie and Rachel won’t go." She pouts ever so slightly and Jensen grins.

"You have fun. I’d say bring back leftovers, but I know there won’t be any."

"That’s okay," she smirks. "I’m saving the grape one for us." Jensen knows she means herself, Katie, and Rachel, but her tone is so inclusive that he’s touched. Jensen turns back to his Kindle and grins as she leaves in a flounce of tulle.

He’s gotten through another twenty pages or so when Katie ambles into her chair, tying her hair into a messy bun as she throws Jensen and Chris a greeting. Chris is half-dozing in his chair, Jensen nods quietly, and Katie picks up her own book.

Another thirty pages later Jared emerges from his tent. He waves when Katie crows good morning to him, and Jensen thinks that might be the slightest hint of a blush coloring his cheeks as they lock eyes for a moment. He disappears for a little while, returning with a burrito, same as the ones Jensen and Chris had gotten yesterday. He digs out a book, flops into his chair and starts eating, pink tongue flicking out to lick sauce from his lips every so often while he turns the pages.

Jensen reads a lot more slowly when he’s fighting the urge to glance up every thirty seconds.

Gen’s return is announced by a peal of laughter, and everyone looks up from their reading material simultaneously. Jensen, Katie, and Rachel all have Kindles, Chris is playing on his phone while it’s hooked to one of the solar chargers, and Jared’s nose-deep in what looks like a physics textbook.

"You all are the nerdiest, most introverted Roo kids, and I love it," Gen sighs dreamily. "I’m pretty sure the group two camps down is already trashed from beer pong."

"Seriously? It’s not even noon." Jared sounds astonished.

"It’s Bonnaroo, man," Jensen laughs. "I’m pretty sure there are people who are drunk 24 hours a day for the entire four days."

"That’s _crazy._ " Jared makes a face.

"Tell me you brought beer, Jared, I’ll have to kick you out of our family if you didn’t," Gen says as she steps out of her tutu, setting the flouncy fabric on her hammock.

"I did!"

"Good," she says. Jared sticks out his tongue.

Jensen looks up when she calls his name a minute later to see her holding up her phone, pointed at Katie, Rachel, and him. "I’m putting these two on Instagram, but you’re in the background," she says. "Is that okay?"

Surprised at her consideration, Jensen shrugs and turns back to his book while she snaps the photo.

"You’re on Instagram? What’s your username?" Jared closes his book and scrambles over to Gen. Jensen goes back to his book while they all share their usernames, but looks up again at Jared’s laugh.

"‘Bookaroo,’" he quotes to Gen. "That’s cute." His dimples peek out as he grins, and Jensen stares, just a little bit. He’s always been a sucker for dimples.

"What are you reading, Jared?" Jensen speaks before he realizes he’s doing it, but he’s genuinely curious.

"Oh," Jared blushes a bit. "Just getting a head start on the reading for my next class." He holds up the textbook.

"You’re in college?" Jensen’s eyebrows climb up to his hairline. The kid looks young, but Jensen didn’t think he was _that_ young.

"Just graduated. I start grad school in a couple weeks." Jared beams as he winds his way over to Jensen, drops down to sit on the cooler. "You?"

"I finished at UT a couple years ago," he points upward at his college-branded canopy, a faithful ally at Bonnaroo since their very first trip. "Now I’m a real live physical therapist."

Jared laughs. "You know, I thought I wanted to be an actor for a hot second, so I packed up and moved to LA with my best friend for six months when I was 18. Then I realized I wasn’t cut out for it so I came home and enrolled for the next semester of college, and the rest, as they say, is history."

Jensen raises his eyebrows. "So what is your field anyway? Physics?" He points to Jared’s textbook.

"Nah. Mechanical engineering. I always liked knowing how things work. When I was little, my big brother had this paper airplane book and I loved trying to figure out why certain ones flew better than others."

"And yet you can’t raise a canopy on your own."

"Hey!" Jared laughs. "Sometimes it takes very complicated equations to figure out the method behind the madness. And that was definitely madness."

Jensen grins. "Yeah, it’s a lot easier with two people."

"This is a pretty sweet setup." Jared gestures at the truck with its camper shell.

"Yeah." Jensen shrugs. "It’s worked out pretty well so far. Though the first couple years we didn’t have the shell, just the canopy and it was not that great because we kept it over the truck bed. We didn’t really have anywhere to sit out of the sun other than the truck."

"Huh," Jared muses. "If I come back I’ll have to figure something out. The tent was _hot_ this morning." He turns to Genevieve. "Yo, Gen, you sleep on that hammock?"

She nods. "I’m with Jensen on the no-tent train. Better than baking like you and these two," she points at Katie and Rachel who make faces at her.

In the early evening Jensen makes his way to the enormous What Stage field so that he can save a spot in the pit line for Vampire Weekend for Chris to meet him after Umphrey’s McGee finishes. He figured the pit lines would be long, but he wasn’t expecting to see this many people in line for Kanye West already. One guy announces he’s been in line since noon, but the rumor is that the people at the very front have been there almost twelve hours. Jensen shrugs, remembering the eight or so hours they’d spent in line for Radiohead, making friends with the others in line—Chris still keeps in touch with one girl—and getting to see the other acts on What Stage, usually headliners since it’s the biggest stage. It takes up the entire western third of Centeroo, the enormous barricaded pit directly in front of the stage and a huge open field behind it lined with food options and merch vendors. There are even air-conditioned bathrooms at the very back edge of the field, but the lines for those are easily twice as long as the lines for the porta-johns.

When Chris finds Jensen in the not-terribly-long line for Vampire Weekend, he immediately announces that he’s starving. Jensen punches him on the shoulder and heads off to get pizza, returning with two giant pieces of Spicy Pie and an impulsive splurge of a cookie pie wedge.

There’s only one act between Umphrey’s and Vampire Weekend, a little firecracker named Janelle Monáe. Jensen fully expected to waste his phone battery zoning out while she played, but he and Chris find themselves nodding along as she sings about androids and the future and laughs giddily at the airplane flying the Trojan condom banner overhead.

Close to the time Vampire Weekend is set to start Jensen gets hungry again, so he runs off to the back edge of the field again. He barely makes it back to the line with his Prater’s barbeque sandwich when security opens the pit to the line; he has to run the last 200 feet to catch up with Chris and grins apologetically at the security staff. The pit isn’t as packed as he thought it would be—there’s a tussle at the front but most of the people a few rows back, like they are, are chill enough to give everyone a little space—so when the band starts off with a bang everyone’s got room to move, thrills of energy vibrating through the crowd with every new song. One of the girls near them tosses her flower crown and screams, "Marry me, Ezra!" in the middle of White Sky, causing a ripple of laughter through their corner of the field.

Chris and Jensen make their way back to camp to catch some sleep before the Trucks superjam at midnight, but the joke’s on them 45 minutes later when Kanye takes What Stage. They’d forgotten that the downside of being this close to Centeroo, especially on this side, is that you can hear _everything_ happening in the main venue.

Chris groans and rolls over, putting his pillow over his head. It’s no match for the bass thumping from dozens of high-powered speakers, so Jensen doesn’t even bother to try. He pulls out his phone, shooting a text to Mac and checking his email. Nothing pressing, just a whole bunch of junk and a message from his boss reminding everyone of the staff meeting next week.

It looks like Chris somehow managed to fall back asleep, so Jensen gets up and pulls out the granola and beef jerky, figuring he’ll throw a packet of instant coffee into a water bottle before the show tonight and sleep late tomorrow. Nobody else is around, so he takes advantage of the quiet to pull out his Kindle again. Jensen recognizes the opening notes of Daft Punk from afar, confused for a minute until he hears Kanye’s voice over the speakers, evidently pissed about the reception to his 2008 Bonnaroo appearance and screaming, "Where the press at?! Fuck the press!"

"Fuck that guy," Jensen hears Chris grumble from the truck. "I want some fucking sleep!" He rustles around a little and falls silent again, probably with earplugs in this time. Jensen stifles his laughter and goes back to his reading only to spot Jared emerging from his tent, rubbing his eyes. Jensen can’t quite see him fully through the gap between the sheets on the side of their canopy, but he hears Jared curse in the general direction of Centeroo when he trips on one of the tie-downs for his tent, stumbling to the back of the car.

"Hey Jensen, you in there?" Jensen responds in the affirmative and Jared pushes up the fabric, slipping under the canopy with water in one hand, beer in the other. He’s dressed in cargo shorts and a faded NASA t-shirt, hair mussed and face creased with sleep.

"What’s up, man?" Jensen pretends like he wasn’t creeping on Jared five minutes ago, keeping half his attention on his Kindle while Jared slouches into Chris’ chair, shaking his head and patting his hair down.

"Eh, nothing really. Just can’t sleep and nobody else is awake around here." Even the Mustang guys have been gone all day—probably some of the people waiting for Kanye hours beforehand.

Jensen barks a laugh. "You can’t entertain yourself?"

Jared blushes a little. "Everything I read said we wouldn’t be spending much time at camp so I didn’t pack a book or anything, and my phone isn’t exactly a time-wasting device." He digs into his pocket and waves a little flip phone around. Jensen marvels for a second at Jared’s hands, one dwarfing a beer can and the phone seemingly even smaller under his fingers.

He snaps himself out of it quickly, tossing his own phone to Jared. "I’m sure you can find something interesting on there," he says, turning back to his reading, but not before he sees Jared light up.

"Really? Thanks, dude!"

"Don’t get too attached," Jensen teases. Jared’s already engrossed in something, fingers flying across the screen. They sit quietly for a while yet, the silence only broken by the occasional slurp as Jared works through his beer. Eventually Jared says, "You got a text from someone named Mac."

Jensen looks up, surprised as Jared hands the phone over. Mac’s written _I hope someone kicks you in the head crowdsurfing._ He laughs as Jared asks, "Violent archenemy?"

"Nah, my sister, Mackenzie," Jensen explains. "She’s wanted to see Vampire Weekend for years so I texted her a photo from the pit."

Jared laughs along with him. "My sister’s hung up on the fact that I’m camping without actually camping for the weekend. I don’t think she’s actually been to a live concert yet. She’s seventeen," he tacks on at Jensen’s questioning look.

"Huh," Jensen muses. "Chris and I started sneaking into bars for open mic night around that age." He hands the phone back to Jared. "So are you going back into Centeroo tonight?"

"We’re gonna go see Skrillex, but he doesn’t start until 1:30. I don’t know if I can stay up until then without more sleep." He yawns.

"Yeah," Jensen yawns too. Maybe it’s time for that coffee. "Chris and I are gonna hit the Trucks superjam, then I’m not sure what. Figured I’d wander and see what sounded good, or just follow Chris around."

Jared chuckles at that. "You guys have been friends a while, haven’t you?"

"Yeah. College actually made a decent roommate match freshman year. We lived together all four years."

"I wish my roommate match had been that good. I lived with two people my first year and we kinda stayed in touch, but I roomed with a friend my second year and that ended badly. I’ve been living alone for the last two." Jared pauses to take a drink of water, shakes the pair of black jelly bracelets on his arm back down to his wrist. "So I told you why I wanted to be an engineer, what got you into physical therapy?"

Jensen snorts, hiding his surprise that Jared bothered to remember his career. "My parents wanted me to be a doctor like my brother, but I didn’t really want to diagnose stuff and push pills. I wanted to be more hands-on, make a difference. EMT was on the table for a while but I wanted something a little less life-and-death. Hence, rehabilitating people."

Jared smiles. "That’s pretty cool. You’re a good person."

Something inside Jensen twists at that, because those were his ex’s exact words when she left. _Jensen, you’re a good person, just not the one for me._ It’s been over a year since she dumped him, but everyone seems to think he isn’t over it because he hasn’t found someone else yet. In all honesty, he hasn’t been that into it, frustrated with the drawn-out process of dating and content to spend his free time with Chris and their little group of friends. Jared seems to pick up on his unease and changes the topic,

Later, after Jensen’s gotten his phone back, he’s surprised to see Jared’s name on the display when it vibrates with a text alert. He shakes his head. Sneaky little fucker must have programmed his number into Jensen’s phone while he was playing with it.

Jensen and Chris head back into Centeroo not long before midnight, re-checking their Camelbaks and wearing slightly warmer clothes to offset the night’s chill again. They’re content to find a space halfway back in the tent, where the crowd is energetic and involved but not chest-to-back like it is closer to the barricade. The Superjam itself is a riot, gorgeously done covers of classic rock and R&B from a whole host of performers, the crowd going wild every time a new face shows up on stage. Jensen and Chris laugh when everyone gets super excited about Ben Folds, joking again that he never really leaves the farm because of the frequency with which he pops up at sets.

After the Superjam, Chris heads back to camp, but Jensen moseys over to Which Stage because he knows Jared and Gen are somewhere in this enormous crowd. Which Stage is smaller than What, but occupies a good portion of the south end of Centeroo and houses some of the bigger names for late-night sets. He’s not all that into most of the late-night stuff, but he’s been in Centeroo once or twice before at this hour. He looks again at the text Jared sent him— _look for the giant green jellyfish_ —and scans the crowd. There are totems everywhere, flashing every color of the neon rainbow. Jensen finally spots the pole with the umbrella and neon green rope lights dangling down—the so-called jellyfish—and delves into the crowd, weaving his way through glowstick-bedecked dancers. When he gets close enough, he can see Jared standing nearly a head above the rest of the crowd.

Jared and Gen give him matching Cheshire Cat grins when he sneaks between them. The air is warm and sticky this deep in the crowd so Jared’s hair is tied back from his face in a bandanna and Gen’s is in a messy bun. There are people pressed in from every side, sweat-tacky skin and clothing sliding together as the crowd collectively ripples and sways to the music. Jensen has no idea what he’s doing, which is probably written on his face by the way Jared grabs his hand and pulls him flush against his front. "Just go with it," he shouts over the screaming treble. It’s intoxicating to feel Jared pressed up against his back, and Jensen wishes he wasn’t wearing his Camelbak. Still, Jensen doesn’t get quite as into it as the crowd around them and he certainly doesn’t have any glowsticks to throw when the beat drops. He does get bonked in the head with one, which Jared promptly retrieves from the ground and fastens onto his own wrist, the blue glow reflecting off his jelly bracelets.

Jensen’s sweaty as hell, exhausted, and dehydrated when the show finally winds down much later than scheduled. Jared’s a ball of energy, never standing still for even a second and Jensen could barely keep up. His Camelbak ran out well over an hour ago and he knows Gen’s was on its way by the way she kept stealing from Jared’s, but despite desperately needing a water fountain and a nap, he feels more exhilarated than he has all weekend. Jensen’s skin tingles with the phantom sensation of Jared’s hands on his wrists, sliding up to his shoulders as he pressed close.

Jared loudly declares that he’s starving, but Gen goes elsewhere with her friends, so they grab two orders of curly fries with garlic and sit at the opposite end of a table with three girls, Jared’s knees knocking Jensen’s under the table. They pretend not to be listening to the girls’ conversation about leaving their significant others behind for the weekend, but Jared butts in after one says, "You need to get him in line," with "More like you need to replace him." Somehow they’re not offended by it and instead draw them into the conversation, which ultimately results in the girl deciding that yeah, she does need a better boyfriend. One who’ll stick up for her the next time she goes to Roo instead of letting his coworkers judge her. Jensen nods vigorously and finishes Jared’s sentences while they plow through their fries. One of the girls points at the two of them and says, "See, honey, you need what they have." Jensen chokes a little on his fry but Jared just smiles and doesn’t bother to correct them.

Centeroo is dim when they finally get up to head back to camp, only the Kalliope stage and a few vendors still lit up. Across the field the Ferris Wheel shines brightly, swirls of blue and purple dancing around red and green in an ever-changing chase. Jared knocks Jensen’s shoulder with his own as they walk.

"Have you ever ridden the Ferris Wheel?"

Jensen shakes his head. "That thing’s like five bucks."

"So? I bet you can see some amazing views from up there. Come on!" Jared takes off at a run, cackling until Jensen catches up with him at the entrance to the Ferris Wheel. Jensen pulls out a ten but the girl working the ride smiles and waves him off, clanging the gondola door shut behind them. Jensen looks out over the campground as they rise and fall, pinpricks of light from flashlights and lanterns illuminating tiny patches of colorful fabrics far below.

"Wow," he breathes, craning his neck over the side as they hang at the very top of the wheel. "You were right, this is a pretty amazing view."

"Sure is," Jared agrees easily. Jensen looks up and feels his face go warm under Jared’s gaze. He isn’t even pretending to look anywhere other than straight at Jensen, and the cool night air transforms into something heavy and warm between them. Jared’s attention flicks down to Jensen’s lips, his eyes reflecting the neon blues and greens of the wheel’s lights as he leans close. Jensen inhales slowly, savoring their shared air before he closes the distance. Jared’s mouth was made for this, lips lingering against Jensen’s even as they pull up in a smile, nose nudging Jensen’s cheek as they shift closer together.

The movement of the wheel breaks them apart, Jared’s startled laughter exhaling across Jensen’s cheek. His eyes shine brightly even as he looks away, unconsciously licking his lips as he catalogues their descent back to ground level. Jensen can practically see the gears turning in his head so he grabs Jared’s hand as they clamber off the wheel, tugging him down the ramp and pushing him into the closest wall for another kiss, mapping the contours of Jared’s lips. He grins as he slides back from Jared, pulling him from the shadows, and doesn’t let go of his hand until they reach their camps.

Saturday morning is spent lazing around the campsite, most of their little group reading or quietly chatting again, and the sunshine is blissful with the cool breezes filtering through the campground. Jensen’s suspicion about the guys next to them are confirmed when one stumbles out from behind their tarps around noon and slides right into the Mustang, turning the engine on for both power and air conditioning. Heavy bass rumbles through the campground, the music briefly earsplitting as they get in and out of the vehicle. Chris shares a raised eyebrow and an eyeroll with Katie, but Rachel's the one who actually marches over and gets them to turn it down.

Jensen nearly chokes when Jared ducks away for a clothing change and emerges from his tent wearing a wifebeater and jean shorts with ragged, cutoff edges. It’s amazing how an extra six inches of leg can make Jared’s legs look miles longer. Katie wolf-whistles and he does a goofy little dance even as he goes red with embarrassment, protesting that they were leftover from a college party, and it’s _hot_ today.

Gen insists on breaking out her grape Skittles vodka since none of their group have shows for a few hours yet. A round of shots turns into two turns into makeshift beer pong on top of two coolers, and Jared smirks across the coolers when Jensen calls for a re-rack. He stacks the cups into the shape of a dick and calls it "an amazing view," throwing Jensen off his game enough for Jared to win.

When Chris runs off to the porta-johns and Gen and Katie are facing off over the coolers, Jared prods Jensen around the side of the truck, crowding him against the sun-warmed metal to steal breathless, grape-flavored kisses. Jensen tips his head back against the truck as Jared’s lips wander to his jaw and ear, teeth scraping gently against his skin.

"We can’t do this all day," Jensen points out. "Chris and I are going in soon."

"I know," Jared says against Jensen’s neck. "I’ll be back late, so I had to get ‘em in now."

When they hear Gen’s whoop of victory Jared pecks Jensen one last time and ducks away, grinning like a loon. Jensen stays against the truck for a moment to catch his breath, then makes a beeline for the remaining vodka, using the cup to disguise his smile.

Jensen can’t stop thinking about Jared. He spends most of Cake’s set lying down in the far-flung Which field, much further back than he’d been with Gen and Jared last night, staring up at the sky. Two kites and a Buzz Lightyear balloon pass in and out of his field of vision, and he idly wonders if Jared’s a Pixar fan. He seems like the type.

Long after most everyone else in the pod has dropped off to sleep, Jensen and Chris are still awake, sipping on water bottles and chatting about Chris’ plans for his bar for the remainder of the summer. After the Jack White show they’d come back to camp waylaid by the Union Jack girl a few cars down saying they needed more people for flip cup, and wouldn’t they just be dolls and join?

After a decisive victory with Union Jack—Lauren—and her friends against the DC residents from a row over, Jensen and Chris made their way back to camp more than a little drunk. Jensen’s common sense extended just far enough to know he needed to drink more water before going to sleep, but not far enough to getting him to the porta-john, and he’d pissed out into the walkway. He’ll feel bad about that in the morning, but for now he’s enjoying some one-on-one time with Chris. Even back home they’re usually surrounded by other people, especially since Chris is more often at the bar than not, all hands-on and putting his business degree to good use.

Their conversation’s just trailed off when loud voices break the air, laughter and exasperation winding together moments before Jared and Gen shuffle into view, Jared brushing his sweaty bangs away from his forehead. Gen’s hair is up in a messy ponytail, her tank top and yoga shorts clinging to her skin, and Jensen imagines her knee-high boots are about a million degrees too hot. Jared sights him and his grin gets impossibly wider, stumbling toward Jensen with his arms out, still wearing his ridiculous short shorts despite the bite in the air.

Jared leans down over Jensen, wrapping him in some kind of demented cling-hug; Jensen chances a look at Chris and has to hold in his laughter at Chris’ face. After a minute trapped under Jared he pushes back, and Jared goes surprisingly easily and overbalances, almost toppling over their cooler.

"Whoa!" Jensen catches Jared’s arm before he takes out their beer and water stash. "Maybe you wanna take a seat, man." Jensen points to Jared’s chair in his campsite and Genevieve helpfully brings it over, planting it right next to Jensen’s. Across the way Chris rolls his eyes and Jensen has to fight down another smirk. Jared flops into the chair, lounging bonelessly with his leg thrown over Jensen’s ankles.

"What happened to him?" Jensen looks up at Gen.

"Jared made friends with someone who shared his blunt. Apparently high Jared is huggy Jared."

"Jensen," Jared drawls. "You’re _so_ pretty." Jensen feels his eyes widen. "And you, Gen. You’re pretty too." Jensen bursts out laughing while Gen hides her snickers behind her hand and even Chris lets out a snort.

"I can hear you, you know," Jared sing-songs. Gen rolls her eyes. "And I can take care of myself," he announces, snagging Jensen’s water bottle from the cupholder of his chair.

"Nobody’s saying you can’t, Jared," Gen sighs. "Come on, let’s go to bed."

"Don’t wanna." Jared puts on a petulant face, crossing his arms over his chest. Jensen chokes on the mouthful of beer he was swallowing, fighting a grin as he coughs down water. "I like it when you smile." Jared sits up, putting his elbows on his knees and eyeing Jensen. Jensen can’t help but smile softly again around his thank you. He looks up to see Gen watching them, hint of a smirk in her smile.

"You got him?" She nods at Jared.

"Yeah," Jensen replies, trying not to watch the movement of Jared’s throat as he sucks down the rest of Jensen’s water in one go. He waves Gen off to bed and she grins wider in return, slipping behind her tapestry and rustling into her hammock at the same time that Chris stands and declares he’s going to see Steve.

"Don’t wait up," he says sarcastically, waving a hand as he grabs his stuff. Jensen’s pretty sure he’s the only person who can hear the sincerity buried deep under the sarcasm, the unsaid sentiment of _don’t do anything I wouldn’t do._

"Welcome back," he offers to Jared once they’re alone.

"Hi," Jared breathes, a soft smile curving over his lips. "I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said you’re really pretty."

Now it’s Jensen’s turn to roll his eyes. "Don’t you want to go to sleep?"

"Nah," Jared picks up his chair and scoots it right next to Jensen, leaning over so they’re close enough to share air. "I want _you._ "

He closes the distance between his and Jensen’s lips. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated and Jared tastes a little like weed, but it’s as good, maybe better, than the others.

"I wanted to do that all night. Thought about skipping the Superjam to see if you were here," Jared confesses. He rocks his chair back on two legs, seemingly thoughtful, until he tips too far and ends up flat on his back. Jensen’s suddenly reminded that Jared’s operating under the influence of drugs and possibly alcohol as he stands to help Jared.

"Jesus," Jared groans as he gets up.

"We should go to bed," Jensen says quickly. He steps back as Jared rights the chair and starts toward him.

"If you insist," Jared teases.

"No, I—I mean, you need sleep—and I do too, and—" he’s cut off by another of Jared’s kisses. t takes all of Jensen’s willpower to break away and push Jared back. "Jared, you’re high," he says exasperatedly.

"And you’re bossy." Jared crowds Jensen again, bending to mouth at his neck, same as he did earlier in the day. Jensen slips his hand over Jared’s face, pushing gently and Jared ducks away to look at Jensen straight on. His eyes are clear, voice steady as he says, "Seriously Jen, you’re going to push me off because I shared a joint with someone earlier? Have you looked around at where we are?" He sweeps his arm out, indicating the entire campground, before pointing at Jensen’s beer. "And you’ve been drinking. We’re a pair of peas in a pod. Come on, I know you want this too."

Jared’s logic is flawed but Jensen finds his hands moving without conscious direction as Jared presses close, sliding one hand into the tangle of Jared’s hair and the other under the back of Jared’s shirt. His skin is tacky, the scent of heated summer days clinging to him with sunscreen and grime, but Jensen can’t bring himself to care. He’s probably just as gross anyway, but Jared’s mouth is good, so good. He pushes his hips into Jensen’s and that’s a hell of a hard-on he’s sporting, Jensen grinding his own back into Jared. Jared’s tugging at the neck of his shirt to nip at his shoulder, tongue sliding across Jensen’s skin and making him shiver in the cool night air.

"Jared," he whispers, wondering when his voice went to hell. Jared makes a questioning noise against Jensen’s skin, and Jensen shoves him in the direction of the truck, hoping his indication is clear. He grabs his phone from the chair, texting Chris and asking him to stay at Steve’s before throwing it somewhere in the mess of stuff at the head of the mattress and lifting himself onto the gate, crawling up to meet Jared’s mouth. He stays carefully to Jared’s side until Jared reaches out and all but yanks Jensen to sit on his lap. The contact sends electricity up Jensen’s spine, crackling and leaping across his nerves. He bites back a moan as he plants his hands on Jared’s chest and finds bare skin; he can’t help but swivel his hips down.

Jared’s features are half-hidden in the dark but Jensen can make out the blown-wide expression decorating his face; mouth slack on a stream of silent exclamations, eyes closed, throat bared to the air. Jensen leans down to that exposed skin, working the flat of his tongue over Jared’s quick-flutter pulse. He reaches down between them to undo his shorts, pauses briefly on the button of Jared’s.

"Do it Jen, come on, do it," Jared pants. He lifts his hips enough for Jensen to bunch the fabric down his thighs and slip Jared’s dick free, hefting its weight against his palm and working his fingers over the already-wet crown. He shoves his own dick down against Jared’s, spitting into his palm to slick the drag. Jensen’s dick is leaving a shiny trail against the cut of Jared’s hip, Jared’s catching on the hem of Jensen’s shirt, both of them rutting fast and hard against each other, hands clutching at skin and tongues sliding artlessly together. Jensen’s moan is swallowed by Jared’s mouth as Jared wraps a hand around both of them, his fingertips brushing Jensen’s palm as they thrust into the cradle of their hands. Jared’s other hand pulls Jensen down, giving him space to lick behind Jensen’s ear, whispering, "Come on, baby, come for me."

The endearment combined with a particularly well-timed squeeze from Jared has Jensen off like a shot, cursing as he shoots over Jared’s stomach, slicking the way for Jared to jack himself to completion, fingers digging deep into Jensen’s hip as his muscles seize and release.

"Fuck," he breathes as Jensen lays beside him. Jensen nods, belatedly realizing Jared can’t see him, and leans over to press a gentle kiss to Jared’s lips. He feels Jared smile against his mouth and has to smile himself as he reaches for the baby wipes they have stashed up here somewhere. He fumbles with the package until he’s able to open it and pull a few out, haphazardly cleaning them both.

"I should go," Jared whispers into the dark between them.

"Nah, Chris left. You can stay." Jensen pitches the package in the direction of the trash bag and feels around for his phone, checking the time. After five AM, Christ. "What time’s your first show tomorrow?"

"I dunno, late," Jared says noncommittally. He half-shrugs against Jensen’s shoulder. They’re barely touching as they lay side-by-side, caught between the ambiguity of casual sex and a hope for something more. He tentatively turns on his side and puts his head on Jared’s shoulder, rewarded when he feels Jared relax.

"Same. Let’s sleep in," Jensen says around the kiss he presses to Jared’s shoulder. Jared laughs gently and agrees, and Jensen falls asleep to the steady rhythm of Jared’s breathing.

Jensen groans when he wakes. It’s barely been four hours since they lay down, but his stomach grumbles unpleasantly when he tries to roll back over and he remembers that he hasn’t eaten anything since he and Chris got cheese fries on their way out of Centeroo. Sighing, Jensen looks over to see Jared completely sacked out, the blanket tucked up under his chin and mouth slightly open in sleep. The world tilts a little bit as Jensen sits up and eases himself out of the truck’s bed, but he won’t call uncle and puke today.

He’s definitely gotta piss, then he’ll run up to pod 3 and get some of the Amish doughnuts for breakfast, knowing Jared will love those if he hasn’t tried them already. He throws a quick glance at Jared again and then sets off, thanking the deities that the cleaning truck for the porta-johns is there right as he walks up.

The girl working the doughnut stand takes one look at him and pulls from the freshest cooling rack when Jensen asks for three doughnuts—not that any of their wares aren’t fresh; two years ago by the end of the weekend they had to cap the number of doughnuts each person could get in order to keep up with demand.

Jensen gives into the temptation of the gyro stall on his way out, so by the time he gets back to camp he’s had plenty of time to worry about Jared waking up alone. That, combined with bringing Jared breakfast, is a worryingly domestic action, but it’s not like he’s going to let the doughnuts go to waste now.

Fortunately when he returns Jared is still asleep, so Jensen kicks up on the tailgate with his breakfast. He's just about done with his gyro when Jared wakes, stretching out and hitting one hand on the cab of the truck.

"Ow," he whines in a sleep-roughened voice. Jensen grins; he knows the truck isn't big enough for _him_ , much less a giant like Jared.

"Morning."

Jared makes a noise that may or may not be human and shoves his face into the pillow only to immediately snap up again. "Oh fuck," he groans. "That wasn't a dream."

"You remember all of it?" Jensen probes carefully.

"I guess," Jared says, scrambling to untangle himself from the blankets and scoot down to the tailgate. "Jensen, I'm really sorry, I never would have forced—"

"Whoa, it's okay," Jensen breaks in. "You didn’t force me to do anything. Don’t worry about it. I got breakfast; we can eat and forget it ever happened if you want." Jensen holds up the bag and smiles wanly, exhaling around the sudden lump in his throat.

"Yeah. That might be a good idea."

"No problem."

"So I’ll, uh, just get out of your hair. Maybe take a shower." Jared paws at his hair as he hops down from the truck.

Jensen loosens his death grip on the bag, holds one of the sugary rings out to Jared. "You still want breakfast?"

Jared turns back, a soft, sad smile on his face. "Sure dude, thanks." He takes the doughnut, fingers brushing Jensen’s for just a fraction of a moment, then he’s gone, ducking under the tarps and Jensen’s left alone for the morning. He contemplates crawling back into the bed for a nap but sighs and grabs his shampoo and soap.

He’s never been willing to shell out for the pricey hoses strung up in storage pods Bonnaroo passes off as showers, so he strips down as much as possible to take a trail shower in the pathway between cars. He carefully rations the water until it’s time to rinse, when he goes all out and dumps half a gallon over his head. When Jensen opens his eyes he finds Gen staring up at him, holding her own shower supplies.

"You two have fun last night?"

Jensen levels her with a glare and her grin turns wicked. "If you know what to listen for, you can hear just about anything in the campground." She dances out of Jensen’s reach as he flings water at her, then runs off toward the direction of the shower trailers. Jensen stands in the middle of the alley, dripping wet for another minute before he shakes himself out of his head and towels off.

Chris ambles in not long after, his grumbling about his phone dying overnight quickly placated by Jensen handing over one of the solar chargers and the last doughnut.

All in all it’s a pretty standard morning, except for the way Jensen can’t stop glancing over to Jared’s camp while he packs his stuff for Centeroo. Chris finally calls him out on it, saying, "Alright man, you gotta spill. What happened last night?"

Jensen sighs, shakes his head. "We hooked up."

"Oh, shit!" Chris exclaims. "I did not see that actually happening. Who _are_ you?"

Jensen makes a face. "I dunno man, I was still a little drunk and he was high, you know, and it just—yeah." He picks at a spot on his chair.

Chris’ face softens as he watches Jensen. "And now what?"

"He just wants to be friends. Chalk it up to the booze and drugs."

"You’ve gotta be kidding."

"Nope." Jensen shrugs.

Chris leans in close enough to nudge Jensen’s shoulder. "If you need me to kick his ass, say the word."

Jensen laughs. "Thanks, man. I think I’ll be good, though."

Sundays on the farm are bittersweet, goodbyes sounding between shouts of the last hurrahs as camps slowly come down, tents and tarps folded in with smoke-heavy clothes and dusty shoes, final beers shared with new friends before coolers are packed away. Gen and Katie are up early, stripping their camp until only the canopy and chairs remain, no sign that anyone slept in this square of land for the last four nights.

After stuffing their things into the hatchback, Gen flops down into her chair with a beer. "So what was everyone’s favorite show so far?" she asks the camp at large.

Katie must still be at the car because her shout, "CHVRCHES was fucking amazing!" is muffled, but Jared’s agreement is heard loud and clear across the campsite.

"Skrillex had amazing lights, too, remember?" He looks at Gen first, then Jensen, who looks away.

"That was my first late-night Which show," Jensen confesses and Gen’s eyes go round. "I don’t know if I’d go see him again, but it was an interesting experience."

Chris snorts behind him and redirects before Jensen can turn around and glare at him. "Phoenix put on a really good show on Which this year."

"Oh yeah, Rachel said that was awesome." Katie hands out cans as she breezes through the tapestries, explaining, "I do _not_ want to bring beer home again this year. It took me like a month to finish off the rack I brought back home last time. Anyway, I wanted to go to Phoenix but they conflicted with Neutral Milk Hotel," she makes a face.

"I actually expected the conflicts to be worse," Jared cuts in. "I read a lot about really bad ones in years past."

Jensen nods. "The first year we came had a ton of crappy conflicts. I guess it also depends on what kinds of music you like, but I feel like they’ve gotten better since then."

"Here’s to Bonnaroo," Gen holds up her can and they all take a drink in unison. "I can tell you right now, if Elton John plays ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’ tonight I’m going to cry."

Jensen reclines on his blanket, legs thrown in front of him, braced on his arms, watching the sun slowly sink over The Other Tent. Little Dragon is due to go on any minute now, second to last show of the festival. Chris is busy at The Bluegrass Situation Superjam, so Jensen has time to just sit and watch the crowd. Bubbles float over the air from the girls a few feet away, giggling as they dip their wands into jars of shiny bubble solution, and a guy with his dreads trapped under his camera strap stops to take photos of them. Jensen’s startled from his thoughts by Jared plopping down onto his blanket, holding out a paper platter of barbeque cheese fries like it’s a peace offering. "Hey," he says carefully.

Jensen looks up at him, surprised. "Didn’t expect you here."

"Yeah. I mean, we said we were gonna meet. Fries?" He shoves the platter toward Jensen, two forks nestled in the corner. Jensen picks up a fork and takes a bite, the spicy-sweet pork all the more delicious against the backdrop of starchy fries and fake cheese. He doesn’t know what to say to Jared so he chews silently, gaze fixed on the plate in his hands.

"Do you want me to go? I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I just didn’t want to give you the wrong idea—staying for breakfast, dragging it out, you know," Jared rushes.

Jensen nods, looking anywhere but directly at Jared. "Yeah, it’s—whatever. It’s Bonnaroo, right? Live in the moment." He gives a half-shrug with a lopsided smile, and Jared mirrors it. Jensen opens his mouth to speak again but gets drowned out by the crowd—the band must have just taken the stage.

By the end of the show, the tension between them is all but completely erased, and they even sit shoulder-to-shoulder for a few minutes after the show as Jared talks with one of the bubble-blowing girls. When Jensen nudges Jared, he moves off the blanket so Jensen can take it to the What field for Elton John’s show, but the air where Jared moved away seems strangely cool against his skin and Jensen shivers as he folds the blanket. He nudges Jared again, nodding in the direction that hundreds of others are moving.

"So, I guess this is it. We’re heading out after Elton, so I probably won’t see you guys at camp again."

Jared looks surprised. "You aren’t staying the night?"

"Nah, we already packed up. We always cut out on Sunday so we’re home by Monday afternoon. More vacation time saved for next year."

Jared nods. "Makes sense."

"Yeah. Anyway, I had a really good time with you this weekend." Jensen winces at how awkward he sounds, but Jared just smiles.

"Me too. I wish it wasn’t ending." Jared chews on his lip. "Hey, um, can we keep in touch? After this?"

"Yeah, man. Sure thing." They could be friends, good friends, if Jensen can forget what Jared felt like underneath him.

"Cool. And maybe I’ll see you next year." Jared brightens and Jensen smiles in return.

"You never know what might happen at Roo. Take care of yourself, man. Have a safe drive home and all that." Jensen punches him gently on the shoulder and walks away, determinedly not looking back until there’s no chance he would see Jared in the crowd.

Dozens of paper lanterns launch into the air during Elton John’s show, lighting the inky blue sky with pinpricks of flame. The field is packed; nearly every person in attendance this weekend is gathered here for the final performance of the festival. Jensen watches a girl with an LED hula hoop perform tricks in time with the music, and a remote-controlled airplane buzzing above the crowd. The Buzz Lightyear balloon he’d seen yesterday is cut loose to soar up into the sky during "Rocket Man," and laughter bubbles out of his chest.

Chris and Jensen pick their way out of the field before the second encore, but it seems they’re not the only ones with that idea. The crowd thickens with every passing minute as hundreds of people stream toward the exit points, bottlenecked at the wristband checkpoint. Jensen tries not to look for Jared’s face in the crowd, but it’s near-impossible to see anything other than two feet in front of him anyway. Someone starts singing _You, you got what I need but you say he's just a friend_ and the crowd picks it up, chanting _But you say he's just a friend, oh baby._ Chris is next to him, checking the traffic and weather on his phone, half-grumbling to himself, but as soon as the sing-along changes to "Bohemian Rhapsody," he picks up the tune and belts it out with the best of them. They pass through the checkpoint for the last time this year to the raucous chorus of _Any way the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me._ Jensen’s amazed at the crowd’s general ability to hold the tempo without any musical accompaniment.

"Toooo meeeee," Chris drags out the vowels as they spill onto the packed-dirt path, the night breeze chilling their sweat-soaked skin. As soon as they get to the truck they’re off, leaving the two plastic bags of trash and recycling in the middle of their campsite as the only evidence they were ever there.

They don’t get very far, though: the sheer number of vehicles maneuvering into the same pathways hundreds of people are streaming through makes for very slow going. Jensen never spots Jared, though, and they make it past the tollbooths and out onto the country roads without incident. The GPS gives them a traffic-free back route to the highway, and they speed away, gunning for home.

Chris stops driving after a couple hours for the last of their Bonnaroo traditions: their first post-Roo shower and a nap in fluffy hotel beds. Jensen claims second shower, giving him time to wolf down a burger while Chris lathers, rinses, and no doubt scrubs himself baby-pink. The guy can rough it with the best of them, but Jensen’s seen his bathroom and the myriad products in it. By the time Jensen gets into the shower he’s tired enough that he just stands under the water for a few long minutes, letting the heat seep into his pores as the worst of the dirt sloughs off his skin. Even with as much as they try to clean themselves up on a daily basis during the festival there’s still a truly gross level of grey water swirling down the drain.

Jensen takes his time soaping his body, savoring the endless heat of the hotel’s water. He rinses the soap away, checking for unusual bug bites or rashes— better safe than sorry—and startles. There on the side of his hip are the ghosts of five perfect bruises, no doubt an exact fit to Jared’s fingers and thumb, digging into Jensen’s skin as he experienced an ecstasy better than any festival drug.

Jensen curses softly as his traitorous dick demands attention at the mere thought of their night together. He pointedly ignores it while he finishes his visual evaluation—all clear—and sighs as he wraps a hand around his dick, telling himself he’s only doing it so he won’t have to face Chris and the hotel room sporting a ridiculous hard-on.

That doesn’t stop his brain from floating Jared’s face behind his eyes as he comes.

When Jensen logs onto Facebook two days after getting home, he has two friend requests: one from a Genevieve Cortese and the other from a Jared Padalecki. Padalecki. Pada—he turns the name over in his head a few times. It’s funny how you can spend half a week getting to know someone and never know their last name. He accepts Gen’s first and logs onto her profile; she’s already got her photos from the weekend up and sorted. He flicks through the album, stopping at the one she’d captioned "bookaroo." It’s the photo she took of Katie and Rachel reading on Friday morning, but he didn’t realize that he’d been so visible too, framed between them in the background. The photo has several comments, but Jensen immediately picks out the one from Jared: _awwww <3_

Jared’s page is a lot more busy, made up of thought fragments, scattered photos, and tons of comments on everything. Jensen clicks on the post _made it to roo! adventures in the comments_ , curious to see what Jared journaled about the weekend.

_couldn’t put the canopy up on my own so neighbors had to help. bless them #radiatepositivity Wednesday 8:51 PM_  
_wandering around the campground eating a waffle ice cream sandwich at 4 am. real life or roo life? Friday 3:54 AM_  
_who remembers - actually remembers - the jorts party? it’s round two: bonnaroo boogaloo today!! Aldis Katharine Gabriel Jessica Saturday 12:07 PM_  
_it’s over and I have to go home? :( Monday 9:42 AM_

Jensen grins to himself—he knows that feeling. Time warps and stretches as strangely after the festival as it did beforehand, and he’s just settling back into his routine. He’s in the middle of stirring a pot of pasta on the stove when his phone chimes. His stomach swoops with anticipation as he sees Jared’s name on the display.

_yay, now we’re officially friends_

Jensen considers for a moment, then writes back _It’s not official until it’s on Facebook?_

_duh._

Jensen smirks as he puts his phone down and finishes his pasta, resolving to get back on a normal sleep schedule by Thursday. Jared makes that a little difficult, texting Jensen at all hours of the day and night—Jensen wonders if he ever sleeps—with everything from worries about his grad courses ( _invest in Kleenex. I’m going to make their profits rise singlehandedly this semester_ ) to chatter about his friends ( _remember I lived in LA for a hot second? the kid I lived with just got a regular part on the CW. THE FREAKIN CW_ ). Jensen doesn’t always respond, but he does when a month after the festival Jared writes _my wristband is getting so grody when I go for runs now._

_You’re still wearing that?! Gross, man._

_it has good memories attached :)_

Jensen wonders if Jared has jerked off as many times as himself to the thought of their night together, ignoring the hot shame that washes over him.

_The memories stick around without the band, too._

Fall starts to roll around by the time Jensen gets tired of of going home to his right hand every night, picturing sun-browned skin and shaggy chestnut hair, and even more tired of Chris’ ribbing over it. He goes on two relatively boring first dates, grateful that neither man tries to push for a second. The third guy seems like he might be a good fit—he doesn’t suggest any of the usual first date stuff, instead offering to take Jensen rock climbing indoors.

The date goes well enough—Jensen isn’t sure he sees a future with Tahmoh, but he could be a nice distraction—until they move to a more difficult section of the climbing wall, where Tahmoh starts to display his prowess while Jensen’s left strategizing below. He looks up at one point to see Tahmoh’s long legs and is struck by a fleeting memory of Jared stretched out on the air mattress, face down with the blanket just covering the rise of his perky little ass.

In a flash he’s dangling in midair, the belayer on the ground below lowering him down while Tahmoh scrambles down the wall. Jensen’s face burns as he unstraps his gear, stammering apologies to Tahmoh before he darts out of the building as quickly as possible.

He’s well and truly fucked.

After his spectacularly failed date, Jensen ends up at Chris’ bar. It’s early enough that the bar isn’t packed yet, so only Gil is behind the counter, giving Jensen a quick wave as he passes by. He finds his friend in the back alley sharing a smoke with Alaina, one of the other bartenders. As soon as he spots Jensen, Chris drops his cigarette and grinds it under the heel of his boot.

"Nope," Jensen says. "Gimme one."

Chris and Alaina both raise an eyebrow—Jensen’s the one who always goes on about how bad smoking is for you—but Chris digs out his pack and hands one over with his skull-engraved lighter. "That bad, huh?" He takes back his lighter as soon as Jensen’s done and lights up another of his own.

Jensen shakes his head. "Can’t get Jared out of my head."

"The kid from the festival?" Alaina cuts in.

"That’s the one." Everybody at the bar knows all about Jensen’s dating woes—not only is Chris his best friend, he’s also a terrible gossip and Jensen hangs out at the bar way too much anyway. They’re smart enough to put it all together.

"Jen, you gotta let this guy go," Chris laments. "You’ve been hung up on him for months and he’s still not picking up on it."

"On the other hand," Alaina starts, "This is probably the most intense Jensen’s ever felt about someone before. You can tell because he’s spent more time talking about Jared than he did even when Danni dumped him." She takes a last drag of her cigarette before crushing the butt against the wall, walking away to the back door.

"That’s not fair!" Jensen protests at her retreating figure. Alaina turns and gives him a saucy wink before disappearing behind the door. "She’s right." He scrubs a hand over his skin in between long inhales. Chris just slouches on the wall next to him, his version of sympathy hugs.

"Look, I’m not about to tell you how to live your life," Chris starts gruffly. "But this has dragged on a while. You think it’s time to get over it?"

"I’ve been trying," Jensen points out. "That was kind of the point of dating."

Chris sighs. "Yeah, I guess. Maybe you gotta do something else."

"Like what?"

"I dunno. Stop mooning? There’s a start." Chris dodges Jensen’s swat, pushing off the wall and heading to the door.

"I’m not _mooning_ , you ass."

"Come prove it, then. Drinks on the house tonight." He throws Jensen a look over his shoulder and disappears behind the door, leaving Jensen to sigh and follow behind.

By the end of the night he’s listing to the right, his head on Alaina’s shoulder as she picks at the last of the fries. Last call was over an hour ago and the bar is mostly cleaned up, so it’s just the last few staff and Jensen eating the food that can’t be saved for tomorrow. Jensen’s pretty sure he said everything he needed to on the subject of Jared, but both Alaina and Gil keep prodding at him while Mark, their bouncer, trades snarky comments in the background with Chris. Jensen’s getting tired of denying his feelings, to himself and everyone else, and he’s pretty sure that eventually he’s either going to give up or give in.

A few weeks before Thanksgiving, Jared calls Jensen late on a Friday night. When Jensen picks up, Jared immediately crows his name, drawing it out into a singsong.

"Are you drunk, man?"

"Maybe. No. Not even close. I’m having an existential crisis, Jensen, don’t blame me for needing some help."

"What’s going on?" Jensen turns the TV down low and slouches into the couch, ready for a long conversation.

Jared’s quiet for a long moment. "I just don’t know if this is the right choice for me. I was so excited about this last year but now that I’m actually here I just...my heart’s not in it as much."

"Well, you did tell me to invest in Kleenex, so is that about to pay off?" Jared gives a watery chuckle and Jensen instantly feels bad. "Do you really want to quit?"

"I don’t know." Jared sighs and pauses before speaking again. "This is all I’ve wanted to do since I was little and Jeff taught me how to fold paper airplanes. I just wanted to make things _work_. And things are most definitely not working. I think I’m failing Autonomous Robots."

Jensen laughs, if only for the fact that such a course exists. "So you think you’re failing one class, and suddenly you’re ready to abandon your program entirely? Man, if every grad student did that there would be like, four percent as many Master’s degrees floating around."

Jared grumbles. "Like you would know."

Jensen laughs again. "What, did you think physical therapy is an undergraduate degree? I spent almost six years in school before I even got to the clinical internship stage. Then I had to do three of those _and_ pass the licensing exam before I could even think about finding a job."

"Wait a second..." Jensen can practically hear Jared doing the calculations in his head. "Seven years? Isn’t that usually doctorate-level?"

"Why yes, Jared, it is."

"The fuck? You never told me you have a doctoral degree."

Jensen shrugs even though Jared can’t see it. "Never came up before. Anyway, back to the original topic. I think we were busy talking about your ambitions to fail out of grad school."

"Well, Jesus, I can’t now. I’d look bad next to you."

"Never. You’d always look good next to me." The instant the words are out he feels panic welling in his chest, squeezing his eyes tightly and infinitely grateful that Jared can’t see him as he stumbles over an apology, trying to backtrack into bro mode.

"No, it’s okay Jensen, don’t worry about it." Jared’s voice sounds kind of strangled. "Listen, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?" He disconnects without waiting for Jensen to answer, and Jensen’s left staring at the phone in his palm.

Jared doesn’t text him the next day, or the day after that.

Three days later, Jensen has an appointment with Jeff, an older guy who had a knee replaced and a steel plate put in his calf after going down hard on his motorcycle. Jeff is a favorite in Jensen’s revolving door of clients; he has a determination Jensen doesn’t see as frequently as he’d like and a fatherly manner that keeps their sessions from feeling overly long. Jensen almost feels like he’s talking to his own dad when he and Jeff converse between exercises.

Today Jensen’s distracted, his conversation with Jared still tumbling around his head. He can’t count the number of times he picked up his phone to text Jared only to stare at the blank message box without a clue what to write. _Sorry I have a major crush on you and can’t keep it in check_ is way more honest than Jensen prefers to be with himself nowadays.

Unsurprisingly, Jeff picks up on it early in their session. They’re taking it easy today, light exercises Jensen can run forward and backward in his sleep, so Jeff is keeping up a steady stream of conversation Jensen can’t even pretend to be listening to. He feels a little bit bad, but he just can’t shake this thing. He clues back into reality when Jeff finishes a sentence with "—and then my daughter turned into a fish and the bird plucked her out of the ocean." He laughs, not unkindly, at the look Jensen gives him and asks where Jensen’s been the last five minutes.

Jensen shakes his head. "I’m sorry, man. I’m just...I shouldn’t have zoned out like that."

"It’s alright." Jeff completes his set and lets Jensen set up the blocks for the next movement. "Want to talk about it? I feel like I’ve given you my life story in the last few weeks so it can be your turn," he chuckles.

Jensen sighs as he sits back. "It’s nothing. Or well, it should be nothing. I met a guy a few months ago and we hit it off but he’s not into me."

Jeff frowns, but there’s a twinkle in his eye. "That’s be a cold day in hell when someone turns you down."

Jensen laughs. "Thanks, but it happens to everyone. How much of this do you actually want to hear?" Jeff shrugs, which Jensen would normally take as leave to continue, but he changes his mind. "Nah, I shouldn’t be sharing this with you. Wouldn’t want you to think any less of me." Jensen manages to muster up a wink.

Jeff raises an eyebrow and Jensen’s reminded again of his dad, especially as he redirects the conversation and gets Jeff set up with the next set of exercises. At the end of the session, Jeff pulls him aside and says, "It’s cool if you don’t want to talk about what’s going on, but be honest with yourself. Think about what’s important to you." He nods and leaves, out the door in a swish of black mesh.

Jensen stands in the doorway for a minute, unnerved by Jeff’s words. He pops into the break room for a quick lunch in between appointments, checking the schedule to see who’s off next. Right now all the other therapists are in appointments so he’s got the breakroom to himself for at least the next thirty minutes. Jensen pulls his leftover pasta from the fridge and sticks it in the microwave. He flops into one of the chairs while the food heats, toying with his phone. After a quick debate he dials and puts it up to his ear.

After three rings, his mom’s familiar voice answers. "Donna Ackles."

"Hey, mama."

"Jensen!" Her voice is pure delight. "Excellent timing, I just started my lunch. So what’s up, baby?"

"Not much," Jensen lies. He closes his eyes and tips the chair back on two legs, rubbing his face. For all that he thought his mom would have the answers, he doesn’t quite feel up to facing them just yet.

"Just a social call? I know you better than that, but I’ll play along. How’s Chris?"

"He’s good."

"The bar’s doing well?"

"Yup."

"The girls still working there?"

"Mmhm."

"And the boys? Anyone new and cute?"

"Mama!"

She laughs. "Now that tells me something’s happening."

"It’s nothing," he dismisses as the microwave dings.

"Don’t lie to me, Jensen Ross," she admonishes. "That’s one step away from lying to yourself."

"I’m pretty sure that’s what lawyers say," Jensen huffs around a laugh as he grabs his pasta from the microwave.

"Where do you think lawyers got it from? They have mothers too." When Jensen doesn’t respond, she cajoles, "Tell me what’s going on, baby."

Jensen sighs and stabs a raviolo with his fork, shrugging even though he knows she can’t see him. "Relationships are hard."

His mother’s laugh is bright and bold over the line, making Jensen homesick for just a moment. "That’s the understatement of the century. What’s going on?"

Jensen starts from the beginning—she’s gotten bits and pieces over the last few months, but Chris is probably the only other person who knows this saga from start to finish—concluding with the Friday night conversation that started this downward spiral. Donna hums thoughtfully as he talks, and when he finishes she’s quiet for a moment, then says, "Sometimes I wonder if getting suspended for kissing that girl at six years old scarred you for life."

"Mama!" An indignant laugh bubbles out of Jensen.

"The punishment was a bit severe for the action," she says, then Jensen hears her talking to someone else at her end of the line. "I’m sorry Jensen, I have to go. Call me again soon, okay? And just remember, there are no suspensions when you’re an adult."

The line clicks and Jensen wonders if rejection is worse than in-school suspension, but he’s looking down at his phone before he realizes he intends to text Jared. The screen blinks cheerfully at him because it turns out Jared’s beaten him to the punch. _just finished my midterm stuff. exhausted. how’s work?_ Jensen’s relieved that Jared’s made no mention of his slip, looking at it like the out it is. He breathes a sigh of relief that he doesn’t have to stumble over awkward apologies or try to brush it under the rug himself. Instead he texts back _Haven’t been able to focus for a few days. I think I need another vacation._

_tell me about it. only 5 weeks until winter break!_

_You know that people in the real world don’t get winter breaks, right?_ Teasing Jared brings a smile to Jensen’s face and the world seems back on an even keel.

It snows on Thanksgiving day, and in the few seconds it takes Jensen to grab his bag from the backseat and make his way to the front door of his parents’ house he’s got flakes in his hair and slush on his boots. He stamps it off and sheds his boots and jacket so his mother can hug him tightly, suddenly feeling much warmer than he has for ages. He leaves his stuff in the hallway, poking his head into the living room to see his dad sacked out on the recliner with the TV on mute in front of him. Jensen notes that their favorite family portrait still hangs on the wall, their names— _Alan, Donna, Joshua, Jensen, Mackenzie_ —painted on the wall to the side. There’s a tiny blue handprint next to Mac’s name because she was upset she couldn’t paint her own name on at six years old and wanted to leave her mark.

"Josh and Kelli couldn’t make it, Maddie’s sick," his mom calls, pulling Jensen from his reminiscing. "She’s got the flu, poor thing." It’ll just be the four of them then, the two youngest siblings and their parents. He walks into the kitchen, where Mac’s music is down low on the stereo as she shreds loaves of bread for stuffing. The table and countertops are scattered with dishes and ingredients and the air smells heavenly.

"‘Sup, big bro?" Mac nods to Jensen as he pulls out the chair next to her and grabs a few slices of bread. Ever since they were little, all three of the siblings fought over who got to tear up the bread, as it was the easiest of all the Thanksgiving chores. Mac, as the youngest, usually got the honors while Josh and Jensen would get stuck with more fiddly tasks like measuring spices and rolling dough, though Donna banned Jensen from anything involving raw dough after he snuck too many pieces and made himself sick when he was twelve.

The three of them chat while they finish all the side dishes, Alan wandering into the kitchen just in time for the turkey to be pulled from the oven and carved. In almost no time the table is heaped with fragrant dishes, the four of them sitting down to tuck in. Mac shares anecdotes about her kindergarteners and the things she’s learning as a student teacher, Alan talks about the projects he’s been doing around the house in between acting roles, and Donna updates them all on the family affairs. Jensen, for his part, talks about the new winter menu Chris put together and some of the clients he’s been rehabbing.

Thanksgiving in the Ackles household has always been an enjoyable affair, doused in relaxation. Jensen wonders how Jared’s doing on his robotics project; Jared said he’d be spending his break at school working, and Jensen feels a little bit bad about that. He wonders what Thanksgivings were like for Jared growing up, that he isn’t bothering to go home.

Josh calls partway through dinner and they put him on speaker, a quick share of holiday cheer among the family. Before Josh hangs up he says, "Oh, hey, Jensen, I wanted to talk to you for a sec." Everyone else says their goodbyes and Jensen takes the phone off speaker, cradling it against his shoulder while he takes another bite of pecan pie.

"What’s up?"

"I already talked to Mac about this, but I was thinking it would be cool if you came out sometime around Christmas?"

Jensen inhales a little bit of his pie. "To Austin?"

"Yeah, a lot of Kelli’s family is coming through for the holidays and I thought it would be cool to see you guys, too. Mac said she won’t be able to come until January, but if you’re free sometime in December you should come for a weekend. Not that I actually want to see you, I just don’t want her to think I like her more than you."

Jensen can practically see the sarcasm dripping from Josh’s voice. "Shut up," he snorts. "I’ll check the calendar when I get back home, see if I can swing a three-day weekend sometime." Jensen’s privately embarrassed that he immediately jumped to thinking he could use it as an excuse to see Jared, but Josh doesn’t have to know that. They say goodbye, but Donna wants the phone again so Jensen passes it to her, Jensen getting a kick from Mac under the table.

"Austin?" She raises her eyebrows. He rolls his eyes in response, but she’s always been too perceptive for her own good. It doesn’t help that she’d weaseled all kinds of information about Jared out of him a few weeks ago after he’d talked to their mom. Jensen’s still not sure she didn’t put Mac up to it. He flicks a stray bit of stuffing from the table at her and grins when she delicately picks it out of her hair and pops it into her mouth. It’s good to be home.

"So I’m coming out to Austin in a couple weeks to see my brother," Jensen drops nonchalantly the next time Jared calls. "Wanna meet up for dinner? My treat."

"You shouldn’t say that to someone living on a student budget," Jared laughs. "But hell yes."

Jensen tells Jared the dates he’ll be in town and Jared promises to clear a bit of his schedule, and Jensen hangs up feeling simultaneously hopeful and apprehensive. He just has to keep his mouth shut about certain feelings.

Jared picks up Jensen for dinner the second day of his visit to Austin. Jensen doesn’t bother having him come to his brother’s front door, instead he slides right into the passenger seat of Jared’s sedan, which Jensen can see hasn’t gotten any prettier in the last six months. Jared, on the other hand, looks like a new person. His biceps are straining against the sleeves of his worn jacket and Jensen would swear his shoulders weren’t that broad the last time they saw each other. He smiles when he recognizes Little Dragon on the radio, Jared’s fingers idly tapping to the beat against the steering wheel.

"So where to?" Jared asks.

Jensen shrugs. "Your choice. I told you, my treat."

"Hmm," Jared drums his fingers on the steering wheel thoughtfully. "Barbeque?" Jensen agrees, and not ten minutes later they’ve pulled up to a tiny restaurant—if you could even call it that, it’s more like a shack—that looks straight out of the fifties. It’s self-seating, so Jared leads him to a table next to the big picture window, easy conversation flowing between them. When Jared stretches one arm across the table, Jensen sees a flash of skinny glowstick wrapped around his wrist along with the black jelly bracelets he’d sported when they first met.

"Where the fuck do you put it all?" Jensen stares in amazement at Jared’s empty plate, completely loaded with meat mere minutes before. Jared blushes a little and shrugs.

"I picked up a gym habit. I’m a growing boy."

"You’re telling me. I’m surprised nobody’s picked you up just to rip that shirt off of you."

"Are you kidding? They’d have to be someone pretty special to put up with me." Jared laughs self-deprecatingly.

After dinner they get in the car and Jared looks indecisive for a moment. Then he asks, "Do you want to come over for a little?"

Jensen knows, he just _knows_ , that if he accepts he’ll get himself into trouble, but he does anyway. Jared takes him on a fast tour of the neighborhood, almost as if to delay the inevitable, and then finally to his apartment building. It’s a small, sparsely furnished place but it’s not far from campus and what furniture Jared does have, he clearly spent some time and effort choosing because the couch they settle on is insanely comfortable. There are books and papers piled everywhere, a clear testament to Jared’s grad student status. Jared brings two bottles of water from the fridge and turns some action movie on TV, which they both pretend to be absorbed in until the male lead finishes blowing his shit up and goes to get his girl.

Jensen can practically feel Jared’s gaze on him and turns to meet it, not entirely surprised to find Jared leaning in to kiss him. This time they’re sober, so there’s no excuse of drugs or alcohol, but it’s every bit as hot as Jensen remembers. Jared’s tongue sneaks into his mouth, outlining his teeth and licking slowly against Jensen’s own. Jensen leans back, tugging Jared with him, until they’re smushed against the armrest, Jared practically in Jensen’s lap. One of Jared’s hands is sliding under Jensen’s shirt while the other presses at the back of his neck, Jensen’s own hands tangling in Jared’s hair.

Jensen doesn’t know how long it’s been when they break for air—long enough that something else is starting on the TV, short enough that he’s only half-breathless. Before he can move or think anything else, Jared’s sliding down his body, hands tracing along his sides, face level with Jensen’s dick and he can’t breathe again. Jared looks up at Jensen only once briefly, enough to confirm Jensen’s consent, before unbuckling, unbuttoning, and unzipping his jeans. The heat of Jared’s palm under his dick is already exquisite, but then he swoops down and swallows Jensen into his mouth. Jensen can’t _not_ watch, Jared’s lips stretched spit-slick around his dick and eyes dark with lust. Jared digs his fingers into Jensen’s hip, tiny pressure points of pain as the other hand soothes over his balls and what little of Jensen’s cock doesn’t fit in his mouth.

Jensen can’t help the way he bucks up into Jared, nor the tiny moans slipping past his lips, too caught up in the sensations swirling through him. Jared’s pulling him closer and closer to the edge, sliding his devilish tongue over the crown, lapping at the slit of Jensen’s dick.

"Fuck, Jared, I’m gonna—"

Jared makes an enthusiastic noise, sealing his lips around Jensen’s shaft again and he can’t hold back any longer, shooting hard down Jared’s throat. When he’s done, Jared pulls off, licking the last drops from the corners of his mouth, kissing Jensen in the filthy way you can only kiss someone after swallowing their come.

"Jen, will you fuck me?" he murmurs against Jensen’s lips. Jensen laughs.

"You’re gonna have to wait a little."

"S’okay," Jared mumbles against his cheek. "I gotta get ready anyway. Come on." He stands and tugs Jensen to his bedroom, where he gets lube and a condom from his nightstand and starts to strip.

"Wait a second." Jensen’s brain kicks in again and he moves to help Jared, or maybe it’s a hindrance with the way Jensen strokes and kisses the flesh that’s slowly revealed. Jared’s dick stands proud, curving toward his belly, drooling precome from the flushed-red tip and all Jensen wants to do is get his hands on it. He pushes Jared toward the bed, shoving down his own jeans and shorts as they go, throwing his shirt somewhere on the floor before settling between Jared’s thighs. He leans down to suckle at Jared’s cock, reveling in the litany of filthy noises dropping from Jared’s lips.

He licks down to the base of Jared’s cock then keeps moving lower, suckling at the delicate skin of his balls and nosing lower, breathing in Jared’s scent. He draws back and nudges Jared to flip, presenting his ass to Jensen with a pillow shoved under his hips. He jumps at the first touch of Jensen’s tongue, but Jensen soothes him with gentle hands on his thighs and licks steadily, thoroughly wetting Jared’s pretty hole. Jensen slides a finger in alongside his tongue, surprised at how tight Jared is. Eventually Jensen works up to three fingers, Jared’s hole sloppy and wet, Jared humping the pillow as he skirts the edge of begging Jensen. The sight’s got Jensen hard again, more than ready to sink into Jared.

Jensen reaches for the condom and lube, still three fingers deep in Jared’s ass, and manages to get the condom on one-handed. The lube he can’t, so he pets Jared as he withdraws, quickly returning with a liberal coating of slick. When he’s ready he leans up to hook his chin over Jared’s shoulder, whispering, "You ready?"

Jared nods on a whimper and Jensen braces one hand on Jared’s back, the other guiding his dick inside Jared. It’s been too long since Jensen fucked anything as pretty as this, Jared’s hole stretched and fluttering as he drives steadily forward. Jared’s reduced to broken, begging noises, alternating between shoving back on Jensen’s cock and humping the pillow desperately.

"God Jared, you’re so desperate for it," Jensen breathes.

"Only with you," Jared breathes. "Fuck, I dreamed about this." He shoves back, hard, and Jensen takes the hint, lifting Jared by his hips and fucking into him with abandon. He knows he’s got time left, his first orgasm having taken the edge off, but Jared’s bound to be close. Jensen reaches for Jared’s cock, stroking over the silky, iron-hard flesh, timing his strokes with his own pace. Jared’s fist wraps around his own and barely five strokes later he’s coming hard and long, crying out as he soaks the pillowcase with his release.

Jensen keeps fucking Jared through his orgasm, only pulling out once Jared collapses to the right of the wet pillow. He rips off the condom and strips his dick quickly, straddling the backs of Jared’s strong thighs, eyes locked on Jared’s messy hair and parted lips. Jensen leans up with a hand over Jared’s shoulder, hooking his fingers into Jared’s mouth. Jared turns his head, licks his fingers, Jensen taking the weight off his hand so Jared can suck them into his mouth, and comes as soon as Jared closes his mouth and sucks. He stripes Jared’s back, pearly-white streaks over golden skin. Jared looks utterly debauched when Jensen withdraws his fingers, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in an entirely satisfied manner.

Jensen leans down to grab one of Jared’s shirts off the floor and uses it to wipe down Jared’s back. He throws it back down to the floor when he’s done, molding himself next to Jared, who’s shoved away the pillow he came on and rolled onto his side, already half-asleep. Jensen falls asleep in minutes.

Jensen wakes slowly, blinking his eyes against the unfamiliar light. Panic shoots through him like a bolt of lightning when he realizes he’s not at home, or even at Josh’s, he’s at Jared’s, _in Jared’s bed_ , and the other half is empty and cold. He’s up and scrambling for his clothes, haphazardly tugging at cotton and shoving his wallet into his pocket so he can get the fuck out, ignoring the protests of his half-asleep body. He quietly edges down the hall, sneaking through Jared’s apartment like a cheap hooker, watching for the unruly mop of hair. His eyes are so focused on watching for Jared that he misses the books piled at the turn of the hall, the resultant thud bringing Jared to his side near-instantly, dressed only in ratty sweatpants, the ends of his hair damp and curling at his neck. He’s holding a spatula and Jensen belatedly realizes he smells breakfast. Really good breakfast.

"Going somewhere?" Jared arches a brow.

"Um," Jensen swallows. "Leaving." Silence. "I was just gonna—you know, get out—you were gone when I woke up and I thought—"

"No, no!" Jared cuts him off, waving his spatula as he gestures. "I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep so I thought I’d make breakfast and let you sleep. You said you weren’t sleeping much. It’s nothing much, eggs and frozen waffles, but you got us breakfast at Roo, so…" he trails off uncertainly.

"Um, well. After what happened the last time we did this…" Jensen lets the end of his sentence trail off as well, the memories clear enough between them.

Jared has the grace to blush as he crosses his arms over his chest, the spatula sticking out incongruously on one side. "Yeah, about that. I was kind of a dick."

Jensen looks up in surprise. 

"Just hear me out," Jared rushes, locking eyes with Jensen. "Then you can go or whatever. When we met I was still getting over my last breakup, not trying to get into another relationship. And I kind of fucked that up when I came onto you, but I really liked you. Still do. I just wasn’t ready to make another commitment."

"And are you now?"

Jared averts his gaze. "I don’t know. I want to be, so badly. You ruined me for other guys, but with you living in Dallas—it would suck."

"There are worse things than a long-distance relationship. And for the record, I like you too, did from the start. But you pushed me away the first time, and I don’t think we can still be friends if this is just about hooking up for you." The words tumble from Jensen’s mouth quickly, his chest tightening with threads of anger and fear.

"It’s not," Jared insists, uncrossing his arms and gesturing with his his spatula. "Yesterday at dinner, when I said that anybody who dated me would have to be somebody pretty special to put up with me? I was thinking of you. You’re the only person who called me out on my shit this semester, you’re the only person I actually want to talk to outside my classmates half the time, and you’re the only person who I even remotely want to fuck. I go out with Aldis and Katharine and all I can think is ‘man, I really screwed up with Jensen.’ It’s been eating at me for months, dude."

Jensen stares for a minute, surprised by Jared’s candor but simultaneously not. He looks straight at Jared, calculating. "You better not be fucking with me."

"I’m not. I swear."

"You really think about me when other guys hit on you?"

Jared cracks a grin at that, relief shining through his eyes at the levity in Jensen’s voice. It feels good to know he can put that expression on Jared’s face. Jensen leans in and kisses Jared, slow and sweet, and when he pulls back it’s an expression of pure contentment on Jared’s features.

"You still wanna go?"

"Not really," Jensen admits.

"Good, because I think the eggs are done."

The eggs are way beyond done, but Jensen’s past caring. He feels like he should pinch himself, but doesn’t want to wake up.

They sit in Jared's car for almost fifteen minutes when Jared brings Jensen back to Josh's house, Jared leaning over the center console to steal kisses between words as Jensen only halfheartedly tries to leave. Jensen feels a bit wooden through his final dinner with Josh, Kelli, and Maddie, wishing he didn’t have to drive back to Dallas that night. He calls Jared as soon as he backs out of Josh’s driveway and spends the entire drive home listening to Jared doing his homework and class prep.

Jensen starts to drive to Austin more weekends than not, getting very familiar with both the inside of his car and Jared’s apartment. He navigates the stacks of books and papers like a pro as Jared works through projects and grades freshman exams, unable to neglect his workload even with Jensen around. Jensen doesn’t mind, though, content to simply spend time in Jared’s presence and catalogue the little things from his spot on the couch—the way Jared chews on the end of his pen while grading, the rhythm he taps on the side of his keyboard as he considers his next words in a paper, his insistence that eating before a shower throws off his whole day.

Jared drives to Dallas to visit him on a weekend when he’s got three days off. Jensen tugs him into his condo, forcing Jared to drop his bag right there in the foyer while Jensen pushes him against the door. When Jensen lets him up, Jared explores and eventually meets Jensen back in the kitchen, a faint smile playing on his lips while he watches Jensen stir sauce in a pot on the stovetop.

"You must really hate art galleries," he comments. Jensen cocks his head and Jared grins. "Do you even own anything decorative?"

"Me," Jensen deadpans.

Jensen drags him to the bar on Saturday night. Saturdays are Alaina’s night off but she was game to come out anyway, and of course Chris and Gil are there, Gil moving smoothly around the bar as Chris sits on the counter, shooting the breeze with a couple regulars. Steve’s even there, camped out on the stage and fiddling with his guitar.

Jensen nabs a table in the back with Jared, Alaina joining them with her fancy cocktail in hand. Chris saunters by to say hello and drops down a pair of beers, clapping Jared on the back harder than strictly necessary. Jensen rolls his eyes—even after all these years Chris doesn’t trust any of Jensen’s relationships. He likes to think he’s gotten a little better at fending for himself, but Chris clearly doesn’t think so. Jared takes it in stride though, ignoring Chris’ slightly threatening posture and leaning into Jensen, curling his fingers into Jensen’s shirt.

Alaina’s intimidation is more subtle, feeling Jared out through questions. She’s excellent at reading body language and facial cues—essential when you work at a bar—and Jensen knows she’s getting more from Jared than just the answers to her queries and comments. When she throws her head back and full-body laughs at one of his jokes, Jensen knows he’s in and smiles, too.

After a few rounds of beer Jared’s gotten in with both Alaina and Gil, and is well on his way to charming Steve too, clapping and cheering after every song like a good Texas boy. He’s also well on his way to drunk, and Jensen knows that drunk Jared means handsy Jared. He’s already had to remove Jared’s hand from his back pocket more than once. He’s lagging way behind in the drinks department because he has to drive both of them home, so Jared’s touchy-feeliness is a lot less exciting than Jared thinks it is.

The next time Jared tries to cop a feel, Jensen grabs his wrist and whispers, "Tone it down, okay babe? We can go home soon," in Jared’s ear. Jared smiles and kisses him sloppily but removes his hand, and Jensen’s won for now.

Not ten minutes later, Jensen’s leaning up against the bar talking with Chris and regular barfly Jim, when Jared suddenly appears behind him, sliding his hands over Jensen’s hips and dangerously close to his dick. Jensen yelps in surprise and jumps away, excusing himself from the conversation and dragging Jared to the quiet by the bathrooms, Jared asking loudly if Jensen’s gonna go down on him in the bathroom.

"Jesus, Jared. Can’t take you anywhere," he says exasperatedly. Jared’s face crumples instantly and he goes still for a moment before fleeing into the bathroom, leaving Jensen stunned in the hallway, frozen in place.

When he’s in control of his limbs again, Jensen pushes open the bathroom door Jared either hasn’t bothered or is too impaired to lock. He’s sitting on the floor in the corner—Jensen sends up thanks that Chris cleans the bathrooms near-religiously—with his knees drawn up, face in his arms, shaking like a leaf.

"Jared?" Jensen tries. When he gets no discernible response, he lowers himself to the floor next to Jared. "Babe, you’re scaring me." Still no response. "Okay, I think it’s time we got you home. You can curl up in bed all you want." He reaches for Jared’s arm, only to be surprised when Jared whacks his hand away, staring at Jensen with angry, red-rimmed eyes.

"You can fuck off, you giant hip-hippo-hip—" he hiccups and stops. Jensen’s not sure why Jared’s calling him a hippo, but he’s too overwhelmed by fear and confusion to see any humor in the situation.

"Jared, come on, let’s go home," he begs. Jared shakes his head no, refusing to move. "Can you at least tell me why you’re upset?"

"You don’t want me here," Jared accuses, adding to Jensen’s mounting confusion.

"Why would you say that? Of _course_ I want you here," Jensen says.

"No!" Jared cries. "You pushed me away!"

Realization makes laughter bubble up in Jensen. "Only because you were about to feel me up in front of two people I respect a lot," he says, managing to keep his voice relatively even.

Jared just looks at him suspiciously.

"Look, I’ll leave if you want, but I think you want me close," Jensen says, appealing to drunk-Jared logic. He rubs a hand soothingly over Jared’s arm, grateful when Jared doesn’t try to pull away or shove him backward. "Let’s go home and talk about this, okay? I’ll wait until you’re ready." Jensen tries to bundle Jared into his arms, but Jared stays stiff and unrelenting.

Jensen’s ass is numb by the time Jared fully melts into his embrace, going limp against Jensen. "Come on, Jared. Up." He stands, managing to get Jared to his feet, too. Jensen shouts his goodbyes as they stumble out to the car and he arranges Jared in the front seat.

By the time they arrive back at Jensen’s place Jared’s almost completely asleep in the passenger seat, but he wakes when Jensen tries to lift him out of the car and shuffles into the bedroom under his own steam, curling his long legs against his chest under the sheets. "Oh, now you’re awake." Jensen stares down at Jared, who nods and scoots over. He crawls in and sits against the headboard, tugging Jared half in his lap and half against the headboard, too. A few minutes later Jensen asks, "Want to tell me what that was all about?"

Jared sniffles, but he answers. "My ex, he—he didn’t like touching in public. Said we couldn’t be happy when people were looking at us like that."

"Oh, babe." Jensen hugs Jared tightly. "I had no idea."

"Yeah. It’s stupid."

"It’s not stupid. I just didn’t know. Now I do. It’s never been a problem before now, right?"

"No." Jared sniffs again.

"Then I think we can agree it was a mistake on both our parts and now I can do better, yeah?" Jared nods his head against Jensen’s chest. "Come on, let’s go to bed." He holds Jared tightly, falling asleep to thoughts of Jared’s sad eyes. He startles awake several times throughout the night, only falling asleep again each time once he realizes Jared truly is still in his arms.

On the anniversary of their third month Jensen wakes first to Jared nuzzling his neck, curled around him like a cuddly octopus, then to about a billion Facebook notifications as soon as he checks his phone because Jared’s gone and marked them ‘in a relationship.’ Jensen scrolls past most of the comments, but he spots Gen’s _I fucking knew it! <3_ and grins. Facebook official, duh.

Jensen ends up at the bar later that week listening to Chris bitch about one of the bands booked to play later in the month, slamming bottles on the bartop. After he’s done he points a finger at Jensen and says, "You better have some good news to balance all that shit out."

The corners of Jensen’s mouth turn up just slightly. "I’m thinking about moving to Austin."

It’s possibly the first time Jensen’s really surprised Chris, a smirk stealing across his face as Chris gapes like a fish.

"Are you fucking serious, dude? Oh, Christ, you must be serious. _You and Jared_ must be serious. Our little Jenny, growing up, and all for a boy." He mock-sniffs, pops the top on two beers, and pushes one in front of Jensen, ignoring Jensen’s glare. "Cheers."

Jensen manages to schedule three interviews within two days of each other thanks to some creative thinking. He’s almost let it slip to Jared on no fewer than four occasions, but he manages to keep his secret until he’s on Jared’s doorstep, looking at his boyfriend half-asleep in his own doorway.

"Jensen? The hell are you doing here?" Jared rubs his eyes, squinting at Jensen.

"Just wanted to come say hi to my favorite boyfriend." Jensen smiles widely, stepping around Jared into the apartment.

"On a Tuesday?" Jared’s confused face is adorable, even with the pillow mark across his cheek.

"I was in the area and I know you don’t teach today." Jensen shrugs. Jared clearly doesn’t believe him, but doesn’t press the issue. His skeptical expression doesn’t waver as he pats Jensen down. "I’m real, man, I’m here." Jensen bats away Jared’s hands and leans up for a kiss.

"Mmm, that’s true," Jared sags into the couch. Jensen settles in next to him, kicking off his shoes. "Time’s’t?"

"Almost noon," Jensen laughs a little. "You slept late today."

Jared yawns and stretches. "Yeah, well, I was up late grading stuff." He nods to the pile of papers on the coffee table, redolent with red Sharpie. He settles against the arm of the couch and wedges his bare feet under Jensen’s thighs. "Seriously, what are you doing here?"

Jensen takes a deep breath. "I have a couple interviews set up."

"Interviews?"

"For jobs. Here. In Austin." Jared’s eyes go wide, and Jensen quickly backtracks, "I mean, if that’s okay with you, I know we didn’t really discuss it but I—"

"Are you messing with me?" Jared’s voice has lost all traces of sleep and Jensen looks him straight in the eye.

"Nope, no way. I really want to come here and see you all the time." He barely finishes his thought before he has a lapful of Jared, big hands sliding over his jaw and drawing him into a deep kiss. "I take it that means you approve," Jensen grins against Jared’s lips.

"Approve? This is fucking _awesome_ ," Jared says. "Are you interviewing today?"

When Jensen answers that he has an hour before he needs to leave, he’s rewarded with a sinful roll of Jared’s hips into his own. He has to remind Jared twice to quit sucking on his neck and pulling his hair, but he manages to make it to the interview on time and looking presentable.

Jensen receives job offers from two of the three places he interviewed with. Once he signs the offer paperwork—complete with celebratory photo-text to Jared—the next step is finding a place to live, so he recruits Jared to help him scout available spaces. Not together—they’re not ready for that quite yet, though Jensen would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what it might be like—but it’s nice to have input from someone who’s familiar with the neighborhoods.

After touring six different apartment complexes and three condos, Jensen decides he likes a two-bedroom apartment in a low-rise building on the outskirts of downtown, close to Jared’s campus but not so much that the complex is full of college kids. The complex manager, Kim, is whip-smart and funny, and she evidently knows every resident by name, greeting them all as they pass by on their tour. It’s not too different from Jensen’s current place, a little more community-oriented and lively, which Jensen appreciates.

Jared, of course, acts completely ridiculous the entire time they’re touring, stepping into each place’s bathtub and sighing mournfully when he doesn’t fit. Kim’s the only one of the managers who outright laughs at his antics, even egging him on a little bit and shuffling him into different sections of the apartment to measure ceiling height.

Jensen’s more than happy to fill out the papers for Kim to start his background check, carefully filling in his information and signing while Jared pokes around the office, asking Kim about the knick-knacks on her shelves and talking about his grad program. Some of their conversation filters through Jensen’s brain, making him smile. God, he’s so in love with Jared.

When he finishes the paperwork, Kim’s all smiles as she takes it and shakes Jensen’s hand, telling him he should hear back in a few days. Jared grins widely as they leave, holding the door for an elderly lady making her way up the steps and slipping his hand into Jensen’s once they’re back in the car.

"Just think," he says. "Soon this’ll be your city, too." Jensen can’t help the smile that spreads across his face at that, hopeful that Kim will come through for this apartment—but no matter what he’ll make his way here.

Jensen moves into his new apartment a week later, right after Jared finishes his first year of grad school. Kim greets him at the office to hand over the keys with a huge grin on her face and between him, Jared, and Chris, they have all his stuff inside within a matter of hours, the hardest part being wrestling his mattress out of the pickup, up the elevator, and down the hall.

Chris heads back to Dallas after beer and pizza shared over the carton—Jensen’s plates are buried somewhere in the kitchen boxes—leaving Jared and Jensen to deal with the actual unpacking. It goes pretty quickly as Jared unboxes stuff and Jensen decides where to put it, halted every so often when Jared discovers something he finds interesting. The biggest interruption is when Jared finds Jensen’s guitar leaning against the back of the sofa. He hefts the case easily in his arms, running a hand over the worn leather.

"You play?"

Jensen leans against the doorjamb, shrugs. "Not so much anymore. Used to be me and Chris snuck into bars for open mic night every weekend in college, but it got harder once I started grad school and he was working his tail off, saving for the bar. We play together once in a while now."

"Play something for me?"

Jensen chuckles and takes the guitar from Jared’s hands, setting it against the wall. "Maybe another time. We’ve got work to do yet and besides, I’m not even sure if this thing’s still in tune."

At the end of the day, once all the major stuff is unpacked and they’ve called it quits until tomorrow, Jared surprises him with a little square magnet bearing the ‘bookaroo’ photo, shyly reminding Jensen of how they met. Jensen proudly sticks his lease letter on the fridge with it as Jared snickers about it being Jensen’s first-ever kitchen decoration.

They end up in bed shortly after, empty boxes still littering the floor and dresser-top. Jensen kicks at the sheets, finding one of Jared’s warm feet with both of his chilly ones.

"What are you gonna do at Roo this year? You’re gonna freeze without me," Jared murmurs drowsily.

Jensen hums. "What if I didn’t have to?" He turns over, digging in the nightstand. Jared’s saying something behind him, but he’s concentrating on remembering where the small box labeled "important" ended up. He ends up getting out of bed when he remembers putting it down in the second bedroom—his office slash guestroom—despite Jared’s questions. Jared’s sitting up wearing a small frown when he returns.

"What’d you get up for?" He sounds considerably more alert.

"What if I didn’t have to go to Bonnaroo without you?" Jensen asks again.

Jared shakes his head. "You know last year was a one-off, with graduation money and stuff. It’s not—" he’s cut off as Jensen climbs into his lap, pressing something into his palm and closing his fingers around it. When he opens his hand, he finds a piece of fabric identical to the one he’s still sporting on his right wrist, but colored grey and purple instead of blue and green, and embroidered with this year’s date. He looks up at Jensen questioningly, who just grins and holds up his own wristband.

"Wanna go with me?" Jensen feels like his face might break in half from his smile.

"Are you shitting me? How?"

Jensen shrugs. "I pulled some strings for your time off, but my new boss didn’t have a problem with it at all. And it won’t be the same without you, so don’t say anything about paying me back. I’m paying for your presence."

"What about Chris?" Jared asks.

Jensen waves a hand. "He’s gonna go with Steve. Not much point in driving all the way out here just to go back east. We’re gonna meet up before hitting the tollbooths so we can all camp together if that’s cool with you. We’ll figure out the rest of the details later."

Jared punches the air. "Dude, of course. This is fucking awesome, thank you Jen." They put the precious wristbands into Jensen’s drawer and slide back under the sheets, Jensen finding Jared’s feet again as they settle into the mattress. "Remind me to dig out my camping stuff next weekend," Jared tells Jensen, who makes a noise of affirmation and burrows deeper into his pillow.

A few minutes later he nudges Jensen. "Are the solar chargers yours or Chris’?"

"Mine," Jensen mumbles. "Bed now, worry about it later."

Sleep is a lost cause when Jared sits bolt upright. "Jen! Where are we gonna sleep? I don’t have the tent anymore!"

On a Wednesday in June, Jensen loads his freshly-cleaned hatchback with enough gear to lower the rear end of the car: canopy, cots, sleeping bag, water, the myriad essentials for Bonnaroo camping, and—possibly most important—two cups of iced coffee in the console. The sun is just rising over Jared’s apartment building as Jensen pulls up to the curb, and Jared throws his own pile of things in the back before sliding into the passenger seat. He flips up his sunglasses to give Jensen a kiss, then settles back to put on his seatbelt.

Jensen hands him the auxiliary cable for his iPod—he gave Jared DJ rights for the trip—and asks, "Think we can top last year?" Jared just winks and slides his sunglasses back over his eyes, grinning mischievously.

"Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet."


End file.
